THE, 

OSINISTERO 
REVEL 


Lillian  Barrett 


, 


/•  / 1 


'  . 


i/- 


Lit 


The 
Sinister  Revel 


NEW  BORZOI  NOVELS 
FALL,  1919 

BRUTE  GODS 

By  Louis  Wilkinton 

THE  TUNNEL 

By  Dorothy  M.  Richardson 

CONSEQUENCES 

By  E.  M.  Delafield 

THE  SINISTER  REVEL 
By  Lillian  Barrett 

LINDA  CONDON 
THE  LAY  ANTHONY 
MOUNTAIN  BLOOD 

By  Joseph  Hergeshtimer 


The 
Sinister  Revel 

by 

Lillian  Barrett 


New  York 

Alfred  •  A  •  Knopf 
1919 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 


Published  August,  1919 
Second  Printing  September,  igig 


PBINTE0  IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF  AMERICA 


To  My  Brother 
Richmond  Brooks  Barrett 


2134236 


Part  I 


THE  SINISTER  REVEL 


Chapter  I 

Craig  Van  Dam  was  eight  years  old  when  first  the 
idea  of  nerves  as  an  integral  part  of  human  life  en- 
tered his  calculations.  Of  course  Craig  didn't  go 
into  the  matter  analytically,  tag  his  feelings  with  a 
pathological  title  and  deduct  things.  One  doesn't 
at  eight.  But  there  is  born  of  instinct  a  knowl- 
edge none  the  less  accurate  for  all  its  lack  of  con- 
formity to  rule. 

Craig  knew  something  had  happened  to  him,  some- 
thing vital  as  well  as  very,  very  tragic.  The  old 
life  of  well-fed,  careless  young  animalism  was  over, 
and  he  had  evolved,  a  thinking  being  with  nerves 
and  responsibilities.  He  felt  old  and  shaky.  He 
was  too  dazed  to  think;  he  realized  only  vaguely 
that  he  wanted  to  get  off  by  himself  and  cry.  Dur- 
ing the  whole  of  that  wretched  drive  home  he  had 
sat,  still  and  white,  listening  to  Horton's  very  Eng- 
lish endeavours  to  explain  away  the  dreadful  thing 
that  had  happened.  No  one  would  have  guessed  to 
look  at  Craig  the  quiver  of  his  little  body,  the  seethe 
of  images  in  his  little  brain. 

9 


The  Sinister  Revel 

As  they  had  come  through  the  lower  district  of 
the  town  on  their  way  home  from  the  customary 
afternoon  drive,  they  had  run  over  a  child,  a  tiny 
tot  with  dark  curls.  She  had  darted  out  from  the 
sidewalk  with  a  peal  of  laughter  that  echoed  mer- 
rily even  as  she  was  trampled  under  the  horse's 
hoofs.  There  had  been  a  sharp  cry  from  the  by- 
standers. 

But  after  it  was  all  over,  it  was  not  the  upturned 
face  of  the  little  girl,  as  she  lay  still  and  quiet,  that 
haunted  Craig,  but  the  crowd  as  it  had  surged  angrily 
about  them.  He  could  not  shut  out  from  his  vision 
the  sinister  aspect  of  those  faces,  craven  even  as 
they  muttered  and  threatened.  There  was  no  ac- 
tual danger;  the  blooded  defiance  of  the  horse  was 
sufficient  protection  until  the  police  arrived  to  tender 
an  obsequious  service.  Craig,  however,  had  recog- 
nized for  the  first  time  the  existence  of  a  force  an- 
tagonistic to  himself.  He  was  aware  of  a  menace 
that  terrified  because  of  its  very  intangibility. 
There  was  something  in  the  attitude  of  that  sullen 
crowd  that  awakened  a  formless  dread.  His  child- 
ish imagination  was  tortured  the  more  keenly  in 
that  he  kept  his  fear  to  himself.  His  strange  silence 
might  have  been  set  down  as  indifference. 

When  he  reached  home  he  was  put  to  bed,  but 
not  for  one  minute  was  he  allowed  a  respite  in  which 
to  give  way  to  his  tears.  His  nurses  hovered  about 
the  room,  exchanging  indignant  remarks  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  poor  in  general,  the  parents  of  the  little 
10 


The  Sinister  Revel 

girl  in  particular.  His  mother  came  in  on  her  way 
to  a  dinner  party.  She  held  his  hand  for  a  while 
and  told  him  to  forget  all  about  it. 

"  Father  will  make  it  all  right  when  he  gets  back," 
she  had  said  with  conviction,  and  enjoined  a  strict 
night  watch  on  the  attendants. 

His  brother  Tony  had  crept  in  with  curious,  round 
eyes. 

u  Did  she  scream?  "  he  had  whispered,  with  child- 
ish delight  in  gruesome  detail. 

Craig  had  shivered  and  shut  his  eyes.  Tony  was 
immediately  ejected  in  bawling  disgrace. 

"  Where  did  Master  Tony  get  hold  of  it?  "  asked 
Marie,  Craig's  special  nurse,  taking  no  pains  to  con- 
ceal her  suspicions  of  Susan,  a  recent  addition  to 
the  nursery  staff. 

"  Out  in  the  stable,  of  course,"  came  the  ready 
answer  from  Susan,  throwing  off  all  responsibility. 
"  Where  does  Master  Tony  get  hold  of  every- 
thing?" 

And  she  proceeded  with  a  giggle  to  relate  an 
anecdote  exemplifying  the  remarkable  acquisitive 
powers  of  her  young  charge. 

"  James  says  that  Master  Tony  said — " 

Craig  turned  over  with  a  sigh.  Susan's  volubil- 
ity subsided  for  a  minute.  Old  Nanna  came  over  to 
the  bedside  and  patted  the  pillow. 

"  Poor  lamb !  "  she  exclaimed  kindly.  "  What  a 
blessing  he  wasn't  thrown  out!  " 

There  was  a  pause.  Susan  was  at  one  of  the 

II 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dressing  tables,  patting  a  curl  in  place,  making  play 
with  a  powder  puff. 

"  Did  the  child  die?  "  she  broke  out  at  last. 

Marie  had,  settled  to  a  novel  and  did  not  hear. 

"  Like  as  not,"  answered  Nanna.  "  But  they'll 
make  a  good  thing  out  of  it.  One  less  mouth  to  feed 
and  a  tidy  sum  in  the  bank  — " 

Susan  began  to  hum  an  air  popular  below-stairs. 

"  Shut  up!  "  said  Marie,  without  taking  her  eyes 
from  her  book. 

Susan  stuck  out  her  tongue.  Then  to  show  her- 
self still  unsubdued, 

"  Horton  says  the  crowd  was  inclined  to  be 
ugly-" 

At  that  point  the  unexpected  happened.  Craig 
sat  up  suddenly  in  bed.  His  face  was  flushed  and 
his  dark  eyes  showed  feverish  depths.  Old  Nanna 
reached  him  just  in  time.  Clinging  to  her  wildly  he 
burst  into  an  agony  of  sobs  and  incoherent  cries. 
The  effect  was  startling. 

"  Delirium!  "  pronounced  Susan. 

Marie  was  already  at  the  speaking  tube.  Two 
footmen  came  in.  The  housekeeper  was  sum- 
moned— 

It  proved  to  be  scarlet  fever,  the  first  of  the  child- 
ish diseases  to  invade  the  Van  Dam  establishment. 
There  seemed,  somehow,  a  mysterious  connection 
between  the  accident  and  the  disease.  Mrs.  Van 
Dam  argued  cause  and  effect  Horton  was  repri- 
manded. 

12 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  But  it's  impossible,"  protested  the  Doctor.  "  A 
contagious  disease  has  to  have  a  certain  length  of 
time,  you  know  — " 

Mrs.  Van  Dam  didn't  know  and  showed  very 
plainly  she  didn't  want  to  be  told.  Details  were  al- 
ways tedious;  it  was  part  of  her  code  to  ignore  them. 
So  she  continued  to  blame  the  little  girl. 

That  her  household  was  very  much  upset,  how- 
ever, she  did  know.  Mr.  Van  Dam  had  been  tele- 
graphed for  and  arrived  with  a  specialist.  An 
army  of  trained  nurses  was  billeted  upon  them. 
Consultations  ran  riot. 

Be  it  said  to  Craig's  credit,  he  did  his  best  to 
justify  the  general  excitement  for  he  nearly  died. 
The  disease  would  have  gone  hard  with  him  under 
any  circumstances,  for  he  was  the  highly  strung  type 
that  could  run  a  temperature  at  the  slightest  provo- 
cation. But,  following  so  closely  the  accident,  the 
shock  of  which  had  undoubtedly  weakened  his  pow- 
ers of  resistance,  the  fever  found  him  a  still  easier 
victim. 

His  delirium  ran  ever  on  the  crowd,  the  sardonic 
faces  that  jeered  and  threatened.  One  minute  he 
would  cry  out  in  terror,  struggling  wildly  as  against 
some  unseen  force;  the  next  he  would  cower  pitifully, 
whimpering  like  a  hurt  animal  in  its  pain.  But  al- 
ways, whichever  way  he  turned,  the  crowd  persisted, 
muttering  and  sinister. 

He  got  well  eventually.  Tony,  in  the  meantime, 
had  been  stricken,  but,  singularly  unimpressed  by  the 

'3 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dignity  of  his  affliction,  romped  through  his  weeks  of 
quarantine  with  all  the  joy  of  a  new  experience. 
Having  a  light  case  himself,  he  didn't  see  why  the 
Hell  (this  to  Susan,  who  passed  it  on  to  the  others) , 
Craig  had  kicked  up  such  a  row  about  it  all.  In 
Tony's  estimation  the  thing  savoured  decidedly  of  a 
lark. 

The  two  boys  were  permitted  to  spend  the  last  few 
weeks  of  their  convalescence  together.  Then  it  was 
Craig  realized  what  an  essential  change  had  come 
over  him.  He  thought  about  things,  about  Tony, 
his  mother  and  father,  Horton.  It  was  as  if  for 
the  first  time  he  could  really  see.  He  took  his  new 
vision  rather  shyly  at  first,  unable  to  lose  the  sense 
of  responsibility  it  involved. 

A  curious  thing,  this  awakening  of  the  childish 
mind,  the  quick  change  from  the  purely  sentient  to 
the  rational.  It  comes  usually  as  a  result  of  some 
chance  incident,  trivial  and  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  awakening  itself.  A  beautiful  sunset,  a  pair 
of  tawny  eyes  caught  in  a  crowd,  a  coarse  word 
heard  on  the  street,  and  thought  fastens  ruthlessly, 
never  again  to  loose  its  hold.  Yet  it  must  be  this 
casual  disparity  is  but  a  surface  thing,  that  the 
chords  in  a  child's  nature  respond  to  those  special 
influences  vital  in  the  working  out  of  his  own  future. 
Else  why  that  lure  of  beauty  for  the  one,  that  sinister 
appeal  for  another?. 

Craig's  awakening  had  come  late,  yet  his  eight 
years  had  been  vivid  in  actual  events.  There  had 

14 


The  Sinister  Revel 

been  the  summers  in  Newport,  winters  in  Palm  Beach 
or  on  the  Riviera.  There  had  been  long  ocean 
voyages  and  deep  blue  sparkling  trips  in  the  Car- 
ibbean. Yet  all  had  passed,  leaving  him  singularly 
unaroused.  It  had  taken  the  accident  with  its  note 
of  tragedy,  its  suggestion  of  menace,  to  dispel  that 
apathy  fostered  unduly  by  the  unctuous  ease  of  his 
existence. 

It  would  have  been  far  easier  for  Craig  had  he 
begun  to  think  at  an  earlier  age.  As  it  was,  he 
developed  a  self-consciousness  that  made  all  thought 
and  the  probing  of  life  a  culpable  thing.  It  was 
as  if  he  were  constantly  surprising  himself  at  a 
key-hole,  guilty  of  a  furtive  practice. 

His  intercourse  with  Tony,  as  it  developed  now, 
served  to  strengthen  this  idea.  Tony  had  a  sordid 
little  soul  and  stable  instincts.  Though  a  year 
younger  than  Craig,  his  mind  had  been  busy  for 
some  time  with  gossip  below-stairs  and  its  bearing 
on  the  essential  facts  of  life.  He  had  a  certain 
tricky  intelligence  that  got  results  where  a  finer 
mind  would  have  failed.  He  sensed  at  once  the 
change  in  his  brother  and  proceeded  to  make  of  him 
a  confidant.  There  was  nothing  too  ugly  of  detail 
for  Tony  to  pass  on.  Craig  listened.  He  was 
too  proud  to  admit  to  his  own  ignorance,  but  his 
sensitive  soul  continued  to  suffer,  for  all  the  in- 
different sophistication  he  learned  to  assume. 

He  even  brought  himself  to  the  point  where,  with 
an  essay  at  carelessness,  he  could  discuss  the  acci- 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dent.  Tony  had  forced  the  issue  so  many  times; 
it  was  not  for  Craig  to  show  his  feelings  in  the 
matter.  One  conversation  is  perhaps  typical  of 
many. 

"  Horton  says  there  was  blood  on  the   horse's 
hoof."     Thus  Tony  a  propos  of  nothing  one  day. 

Craig  continued  to  fold  and  unfold  the  blades  of 
a  new  pocket  knife. 

"Was  she  pretty?"  persisted  Tony. 

Craig  nodded. 

"  So  —  so,"  he  answered. 

Then  Tony  sagely  : 

"  It's  just  as  well  she  died.  Horton  says  poor 
girls  when  they're  pretty  always  come  to  a  bad  end." 
Of  course,"  commented  Craig,  but  he  felt  a 
sudden  strange  shakiness  almost  as  if  he  wanted 
to  cry.  He  cleared  his  throat,  and  then,  thrusting 
his  hands  into  the  depths  of  his  pockets,  began  to 
whistle. 

"Is  father  coming  home  tonight?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"  Maybe  so,  maybe  not!  "  answered  Tony  slowly, 
and  there  was  a  world  of  wicked  wisdom  in  his  little 
rat  eyes. 

Craig  saw  his  mistake  at  once.  He  had  let  him- 
self in  unwittingly  for  some  new  revelations  Tony 
had  been  preparing  for  some  time  to  make  and  he 
became  almost  panicky. 

r'"  he  said 


16 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"Why  not?"  answered  Tony  in  a  flippant  tone. 
"  He's  as  good  as  another." 

"  I  won't  listen,"  said  Craig  with  rising  defiance. 

Tony  brought  his  lips  into  position  for  a  pro- 
longed whistle  and  then  winked  knowingly. 

"  Miss  Sunday  School,"  he  taunted. 

Craig  flushed  hotly.  It  was  Tony's  way  of 
eliminating  all  opposition  at  once.  Craig  winced 
under  the  lash  of  the  hideous  appellation.  Then 
with  a  forced  laugh  and  a  show  of  bravado  he 
settled  himself  to  attention.  After  all,  he  would 
teach  Tony  how  little  scandal  of  any  sort  affected 
him. 

So  it  was  Craig's  apprenticeship  to  life  went  on. 
As  the  boys  grew  older  they  were  put  in  charge  of  a 
tutor;  old  Baintree  they  called  him,  although  in 
reality  he  was  but  thirty-two. 

"  Get  them  into  college  when  they're  eighteen," 
directed  Mr.  Van  Dam  and  felt  his  responsibility 
was  at  an  end. 

Craig  studied  hard,  for  he  liked  old  Braintree  and 
thought  in  that  way  to  win  his  approval.  Tony 
dodged  always,  but  had  a  happy  faculty  of  bluff. 
He  trotted  everything  with  the  result  of  a  fluency 
of  translation  that  quite  put  to  blush  poor  Craig's 
efforts,  the  fruit  of  honest  toil. 

"  It  isn't  fair  to  Braintree,"  Craig  had  protested, 
whereupon  Tony  had  burst  into  a  loud  guffaw. 

"  You  bet  he  knows,"  he  said  with  conviction. 

He  did,  but  Craig  could  never  be  brought  to  be. 

17 


The  Sinister  Revel 

lieve  it,  holding  to  the  end  that  the  tutor  was  an 
honest  man  duped. 

When  the  boys  were  thirteen  and  fourteen  re- 
spectively, there  first  entered  their  lives  the  factor 
of  girls  as  girls.  This  was  brought  about  one  sum- 
mer by  the  institution  of  a  dancing  class  at  the 
Casino  for  the  children  of  the  cottage  colony.  Tony 
thrilled  to  the  idea;  Craig  held  back. 

"  I  don't  want  to  learn  to  dance,"  he  protested 
almost  sullenly  and  stayed  awake  the  night  before 
the  first  lesson  with  the  image  of  his  own  awkward- 
ness to  haunt  him.  Yet  the  thing  that  caused  him 
to  hold  back  ran  deeper,  in  reality,  than  the  fear 
of  blundering.  It  was  that  shrinking  from  the  new, 
always  instinct  in  natures  of  sensitive  timidity. 

Each  fact  of  life  learned  had  brought  Craig  a 
distinct  shock,  followed  by  a  revulsion  from  every- 
thing and  everybody.  At  such  times  he  would  shut 
himself  in  his  room. 

"  Master  Craig  has  the  sulks  again,"  was  the 
usual  verdict,  and  Craig  let  it  go  at  that.  Anything, 
provided  only  he  could  be  left  alone  till  the  depres- 
sion passed. 

Small  wonder  then  he  feared  each  fresh  experi- 
ence as  it  came  to  him.  So  with  the  dancing  class. 
He  denounced  it  sweepingly  for  he  sensed  all  too 
surely  new  complications,  the  particulars  of  which 
he  shrank  from  realizing.  Being  "  teased  "  about 
some  girl  loomed  the  blackest  danger,  for  that 
seemed  to  Craig  the  depths  of  all  shame. 
18 


The  Sinister  Revel 

So  he  had  a  dismal  time  preparing  for  the 
"  party,"  as  Tony  styled  it.  The  first  lesson  did 
prove  a  horrible  ordeal  of  line  work  and  embar- 
rassed bows  and  scrapes.  Even  Tony's  enthusiasm 
waned,  for  there  wasn't  the  slightest  opportunity 
for  larking.  The  second  lesson  went  at  a  quicker 
tempo;  they  all  got  acquainted,  played  tricks  on 
each  other  in  the  dressing-room.  The  third  lesson 
brought  utter  disregard  of  everything  the  teacher 
had  to  say,  with  the  result  of  an  uproarious  frolic. 
Affairs  of  the  heart  got  well  under  way  and  rivalry 
ran  deep. 

Tony  was  smitten  among  the  first  by  a  little  dark 
girl  as  chubby  as  himself,  her  claim  to  distinction 
being  a  hoarse  voice  and  the  name  Vera.  Larry 
Winters  ran  a  close  second  in  devotion.  He  and 
Tony  spent  all  the  intermissions  punching  each  other 
out  on  the  side  piazza. 

William  Manning,  Willie  they  called  him  for  he 
hated  it  so,  glowered  attention  on  pretty  Madeleine 
Sears.  Willie  had  rather  an  ugly  disposition,  said 
sarcastic  things  even  to  Madeleine;  she  was  too 
stupid,  however,  to  know  what  he  meant  so  they 
made  an  excellent  pair. 

Carly  Andrews  backed  a  little  red  haired  girl 
who  knew  a  lot  about  dogs,  while  Billy  Severn  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  prowled  about  with  the 
air  of  a  connoisseur  "  looking  them  over." 

Craig,  when  he  saw  the  trend  of  things,  scowled 
disapprovingly  and  held  aloof.  There  seemed, 

19 


The  Sinister  Revel 

somehow,  in  this  so  public  declaration  of  favour  a 
bad  taste,  merging  very  close  to  the  indecent.  He 
would  have  none  of  it.  As  the  other  boys,  poised 
atiptoe  in  the  accepted  Marathon  style,  awaited 
eagerly  the  order  to  choose  partners,  Craig  sulked. 
When  the  scrimmage  of  selection  with  its  aches  and 
its  ecstasies  was  over,  Craig  took  what  was  left. 
What  was  left  never  proved  to  his  liking,  but  he 
would  not  admit  even  to  himself  his  disappointment. 
For,  after  all,  was  he  not  totally  indifferent?  Yet 
there  was  a  hope  in  his  heart,  vaguely  felt,  that 
some  day  the  slim,  blonde  girl  they  called  Constance 
would  fail  of  selection  and  fall  to  him.  She  al- 
ways looked  so  cool  and  restful.  Her  face  never 
became  flushed,  nor  her  sash  awry.  There  was  a 
dignity  about  her  that  compelled  respect.  It  was  evi- 
dent she,  too,  felt  superior  to  all  this  child's  play; 
that  in  itself  constituted  a  bond. 

Craig  took  care,  however,  never  to  direct  his 
scrutiny  of  the  slim  Constance  in  the  open;  the 
dressing-room  door  offered  itself  as  a  comfortable 
covert  from  which  he  could  gaze  his  fill  without 
provoking  comment.  If  Constance,  on  her  side, 
had  noticed  his  presence,  she,  too,  was  skilful  in 
couching  her  interest. 

The  fifth  lesson  brought  an  incident,  diverting 
even  while  it  aroused  violent  indignation.  It  was 
to  prove  of  vital  importance  to  Craig.  There  had 
appeared  on  the  scene  a  child  of  six,  all  big  dark 
eyes  and  a  fluff  of  party  dress.  When  she  was  dis- 

20 


The  Sinister  Revel 

covered  as  a  candidate  to  the  class,  feeling  ran  high. 
Tony,  in  particular,  could  hardly  brook  the  insult. 
The  dignity  of  all  as  "  grown-ups  "  was  imperilled. 

"  Anybody'd  think  it  was  a  kindergarten,"  Tony 
had  cried  and  then  swore  so  the  teacher  could  hear 
him.  This  by  way  of  proving  conclusively  the  ab- 
surdity of  such  an  hypothesis. 

Miss  Redpath  showed  herself  quite  impervious  to 
criticism,  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  the  child  herself.  The  little  Mimi 
proved  excellent  sport,  her  flares  of  temper  provok- 
ing the  wildest  hilarity.  Direct  treatment  was  in 
order. 

Craig  had  felt  more  keenly  than  any  one  else  the 
slight  of  the  child's  presence,  but  he  had  to  admit 
the  baiting  of  the  little  creature  was  being  carried 
too  far.  He  brought  himself  to  smile  at  her  once 
by  way  of  encouragement  in  her  plight. 

When  it  came  to  the  grand  march  the  teacher 
planned  a  cunning  revenge. 

"  Mimi  is  to  lead,"  she  announced  in  deliberate 
tones,  "  and  may  choose  her  partner." 

A  groan  arose  from  the  male  members  of  the 
class;  earh  boy,  artlessly  confessing  his  own  charms, 
sought  to  obscure  them  by  hiding  behind  his  neigh- 
bour. 

Constance  seemed  to  get  the  humour  of  the  situa- 
tion; so  did  Craig.  For  the  first  time  their  eyes 
sought  each  other's  and  they  smiled  a  wonderful 
deep  smile  of  understanding.  Craig's  heart  stood 

21 


The  Sinister  Revel 

perfectly  still,  preliminary  to  a  wild  beating  that 
sent  the  blood  surging  to  his  head.  He  felt  dizzy 
and  could  hardly  breathe.  But  even  as  he  strug- 
gled to  calm  himself,  a  loud  shout  went  up  from 
the  assemblage.  The  little  Mimi  was  coming  di- 
rectly towards  him. 

It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  Craig,  a  moment 
when  he  realized  for  the  first  time  that  his  nature 
was  capable  of  a  brutal  act.  He  could  have  struck 
that  tiny  face  raised  so  eagerly  expectant,  roughly 
thrown  off  the  little  hot  hand  that  fastened  on  his. 
He  felt  that  he  was  being  made  a  fool  of  —  His 
eyes  sought  Constance's  again  in  the  desperation  of 
his  indecision.  Her  quiet  smile  calmed  him,  and 
there  seemed,  somehow,  almost  an  approval  in  her 
placid  blue  eyes.  After  all,  the  thing  was  a  joke. 
Craig  rose  with  a  laugh,  even  as  Miss  Redpath  was 
heard  to  ask  that  one  girl  stay  out,  as  the  number 
was  odd.  Constance  quietly  volunteered. 

The  march  proved  an  uproar,  and  no  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  director  could  bring  order  from  its 
chaos.  Little  Mimi  showed  herself  perverse,  but 
it  was  not  entirely  her  fault  that  things  went  wrong. 
For  Craig,  himself,  did  the  strangest,  most  erratic 
things.  Tony  and  Larry  jollied  him  unmercifully, 
but  he  did  not  hear  them.  He  was  conscious  only 
of  those  calm  blue  eyes  that  followed  his  vagaries- 
around  and  around  the  ballroom. 

Then  suddenly  the  little  Mimi  had  given  way  un- 
der the  strain.  Craig  all  unknowing  had  given  her 
22 


The  Sinister  Revel 

arm  a  pull.  Instantly  she  had  jerked  away  from 
him  and  bursting  into  a  storm  of  tears  rushed  head- 
long to  the  arms  of  her  waiting  bonne. 

There  was  much  disorganized  activity,  a  swell  of 
indignation.  In  the  meantime  Miss  Redpath  had 
motioned  to  Constance.  In  a  second,  before  Craig 
had  time  to  grasp  the  significance  of  what  was  hap- 
pening, he  felt  Constance's  cool  hand  slipped  into 
his.  It  seemed  as  if  that  was  what  he  had  been 
waiting  for  always.  His  nervousness  disappeared, 
and  a  great  placidity  settled  upon  him.  The  tangles 
of  the  grand  march  smoothed  themselves  out  to 
a  spiral  denouement  of  unprecedented  brilliance. 
Craig  had  come  into  his  own. 

Afterwards  as  they  stood  on  the  piazza  awaiting 
the  carriages,  the  little  Mimi  was  brought  out.  Her 
face  was  tear-stained,  the  eyes  big  dusky  shadows. 
She  peered  out  of  the  carriage  window  as  they  drove 
off  and  Craig  had  suddenly  a  swift  vision  of  the  little 
girl  his  horse  had  trampled  under  foot.  Again  he 
felt  that  strange  shake  of  his  nerves.  He  turned 
quickly  to  Constance;  it  seemed  he  could  not  bring 
himself  at  that  point  to  let -her  go. 

"  How  about  Huyler's?  "  he  suggested  gruffly. 

Constance  smiled  her  assent.  They  decided  to 
walk.  Then,  going  up  through  the  grounds  on  their 
way  to  Bellevue  Avenue,  Craig  began  to  talk  of 
the  accident  of  years  before.  It  was  quite  unex- 
pected, but  Mimi's  tiny  face  had  startled  a  memory 
that  could  not  be  put  down.  Craig  talked  on  and 

23 


The  Sinister  Revel 

on,  finding  infinite  relief  in  unburdening  himself. 
Constance  listened,  saying  little.  If  what  she  did 
say  meant  nothing  at  all,  Craig  was  unaware  of  it; 
the  sympathy  in  her  placid  eyes  seemed  a  panacea  for 
all  ill. 

The  walk  was  a  short  one;  they  lingered  uncon- 
sciously. Groups  of  other  children  had  preceded 
them,  having  raced  ahead  or  packed  themselves,  a 
squealing  crew,  in  Vera's  pony  cart.  As  Craig  and 
Constance  entered  the  store  there  was  a  suppressed 
giggle.  Tony  poked  Larry  in  the  ribs;  Larry 
nudged  Vera,  thereby  upsetting  her  soda.  William 
smirked  disagreeably.  Constance  seemed  serenely 
unconscious  of  the  eclat  they  had  created  and  settled 
herself  with  easy  grace  at  a  table.  Craig  glowered 
at  everybody,  tripped  over  a  chair  and  decided  he  al- 
ways had  hated  Tony. 

The  conversation  that  had  been  so  intimate  and 
eager  up  to  that  point  flagged  pitifully.  Flavours 
formed  the  principal  theme  of  discussion.  Con- 
stance liked  vanilla;  Craig  confessed  to  a  penchant 
for  strawberry  but  liked  vanilla  second  best. 

When  it  was  over  and  Constance  had  been  given 
back  to  her  waiting  attendant,  Craig  got  into  his  dog 
cart  and  took  the  reins  from  the  footman.  Tony 
was  seen  signalling  wildly  from  the  curb. 

"All  right!  "  said  Craig  sullenly  and  waited  till 
Tony  had  scrambled  in.     Then  he  gave  the  horse, 
his  favourite  one  at  that,  a  vicious  cut. 
24 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Whew!  "  whistled  Tony.  "  What  did  she  do 
to  you?  " 

"  Shut  up,  damn  you !  "  said  Craig  through  his 
teeth  and  lashed  the  horse  anew. 

It  was  the  first  time  Craig  had  ever  used  an  oath. 
The  satisfaction  he  took  in  seeing  Tony  cowed  to 
stupefaction  soon  merged  :nto  a  bitter  remorse. 
Constance  passed  them  with  a  vague  wave  of  her 
hand  and  Craig  got  all  too  surely  the  sense  of  his 
own  violence  by  contrast.  There  was  present,  even 
more  poignant  than  before,  that  feeling  of  a  beau- 
tiful thing  spoiled. 

The  venture  of  the  dancing  class  was-  a  success- 
ful one  in  that  our  young  people  very  soon  became 
welded  into  a  distinct  organization,  "  the  bunch  " 
in  Tony's  vernacular,  but  in  Constance's  more  ele- 
gant diction  "  our  set." 

"  Our  set  "  was  soon  recognized  by  younger  New- 
port as  a  power  to  be  conciliated.  It  showed  its 
strength  by  acknowledging  no  law  but  its  own  whims. 
It  was  captious,  fickle,  displaying  a  broad  leniency 
here,  drawing  a  sharp  little  line  of  distinction  there. 
It  professed  a  frank  democracy  but  was  known  to 
snub  outrageously.  It  had  its  own  code  of  ethics, 
its  own  gossip.  It  lived  up  to  its  own  traditions. 

For  instance,  lollypops  were  considered  "  not 
the  thing  "  after  a  certain  age.  Though  lack  of  a 
transition  stage  rendered  the  renunciation  a  difficult 
matter,  there  was  never  any  fuss  made.  One  simply 

25 


The  Sinister  Revel 

awoke  to  an  existence  of  non-lollypops,  and  made 
the  most  of  it  like  a  good  sport.  Sodas  began  to 
be  spoken  of  apologetically.  Tony  still  suffered 
himself  to  be  led  to  Huyler's,  but  his  air  bespoke  a 
condescension  as  of  one  who,  if  pressed,  could  say 
much  as  to  real  vintages.  Roget  '69  stuck  in  Tony's 
head,  as  Magna  Carta  T2i5  had  always  failed  to  do. 

Vera  confided  to  Larry  she  hoped  Tony  wasn't 
going  to  be  "  fast  ";  Tony's  swagger  after  that  was 
the  talk  of  the  Avenue. 

As  time  went  on  violent  enthusiasms  came  to  be 
suppressed  as  "  young."  Such  a  power  of  contumely 
as  could  be  compressed  in  that  word  "  young " ! 
Reservations  were  in  order;  a  restraint  imposed, 
personalities  tabooed.  But  never  could  they  bring 
themselves  to  the  point  of  curbing  their  exuberance 
upon  the  advent  of  one  of  their  number  into  long 
trousers.  On  such  occasions  all  game  laws  were 
off  with  the  result  of  tremendous  sport. 

Words  cannot  describe  the  agonies  of  mortifica- 
tion suffered  by  Craig  the  day  of  his  initiation.  As 
he  stood  before  Constance's  clear  gaze  he  might 
have  been  as  unclad  as  Adam  for  the  intensity  of 
shame  he  experienced.  The  rough  treatment  of  the 
boys  was  as  nothing  to  the  ordeal  of  her  placid 
scrutiny. 

All  in  all,  the  set  made  for  a  glorious  good  time; 
the  allegiance  of  its  members  was  absolute.  Every 
minute  was  accounted  a  loss  when  they  were  not 
26 


The  Sinister  Revel 

foregathered,  tossing  tennis  balls  on  the  Casino 
green,  basking  in  the  sand  at  Bailey's,  revelling  at 
birthday  parties  that  terminated  far  too  early.  In 
the  winter  they  rode  and  skated  together  in  Central 
Park,  or  extended  their  summer  program  to  Palm 
Beach. 

So  the  years  passed  with  the  inevitable  sophistica- 
tion of  our  young  people  in  the  making,  the  elements 
in  fusion  having  cooled  sufficiently  to  take  the  final 
stamp  of  character.  With  the  fact  to  be  faced  that 
some  of  the  boys  were  ready  to  go  away  to  college, 
there  came  to  all  the  consciousness  that  one  chapter 
of  life  was  ended.  They  took  the  realization  each 
according  to  his  nature,  with  a  hearty  regret  for  the 
good  times  that  were  over,  or  a  straining  at  the 
leash  of  the  future. 

Tony  swore  himself  into  a  purple  rage  when  in- 
tercollegiate reports  came  in,  to  the  discovery  of 
his  very  ignominious  failure.  He  had  been  talking 
in  large  terms  of  entering  with  Craig,  and  confi- 
dently expected  to  get  by  on  his  usual  bluff.  He 
covered  his  flunk  jauntily  to  the  world,  however. 

"  I've  decided  I'm  too  young,"  he  confided  to 
Vera.  "  So  I  think  I'll  just  stick  around  for  an- 
other year." 

Craig,  on  the  other  hand,  was  horribly  depressed 
by  his  success.  Again,  that  apprehension  of  the 
future  even  when  he  could  most  reasonably  expect 
it  to  be  happy!  He  would  gladly  have  sacrificed 

27 


The  Sinister  Revel 

his  college  career  and  gone  the  old  youthful  round 
always  and  always,  granted  of  course  the  haven  of 
Constance's  pure  eyes. 

Craig's  nature  was  essentially  a  reticent  one.  He 
was  singularly  afraid  of  his  feelings;  never  admitting 
an  emotion,  even  to  himself,  rather  taking  refuge 
behind  a  certain  indifference.  The  restraint  im- 
posed blocked  all  the  natural  outlets  by  which  the 
alloy  of  youthful  emotion  could  have  been  worked 
off  and  the  basic  elements  purified.  The  good  and 
the  bad  were  at  odds  within  him;  his  turbulent  moods 
were  the  inevitable  result. 

It  was  only  natural,  therefore,  that  Constance, 
with  her  clarity  of  gaze  and  soul,  should  appeal  to 
him  by  a  very  contrast  of  values.  There  seemed  al- 
ways a  great  rest  in  her  presence.  He  had  been 
conscious  of  this  from  the  first  moment  she  had 
slipped  her  cool  little  hand  into  his  and  straightened 
out  the  fevered  tangles  of  the  grand  march.  That 
sense  of  rest  had  pervaded  their  relation  ever  since. 
It  was  to  her  he  turned  in  those  moods  of  sullen 
unrest  that  came  upon  him  so  unaccountably;  with 
her  he  found  always  the  peace  he  craved.  She 
stood  to  him  for  an  ideal,  an  ideal  of  purity  and 
goodness,  the  conviction  of  which  he  might  other- 
wise have  lost.  In  contemplation  of  her  he  could 
regain  his  faith  in  the  beauty  of  life  and  so  rest 
in  the  sense  of  a  larger  freedom. 

Not  that  Craig  resorted  to  a  diagnosis  of  his  case 
in  those  cub  years  before  he  went  to  college,  any 
28 


The  Sinister  Revel 

more  than  he  had  worked  out  analytically  his  at- 
tack of  nerves  at  eight.  He  knew  simply  that  he 
didn't  want  to  go  away  to  college  for  he  didn't  want 
to  leave  Constance.  If  there  was  a  vague  suspicion 
in  his  mind  that  he  was  what  is  ordinarily  termed 
"  in  love,"  he  refused  to  face  it. 


29 


Chapter  II 


So  Craig  went  to  Yale.  His  equipment  of  idea 
was  about  the  same  as  that  of  most  of  the  boys  of  his 
set.  He  was  sophisticated.  How  could  he  not  be, 
with  Tony  ever  at  his  ear?  He  knew  of  the  ex- 
istence of  evil  in  all  forms.  He  knew  morality  as  a 
negligible  quantity  in  the  equation  of  social  life.  He 
knew  —  yes,  he  knew  everything,  but  with  an  oddly 
abstracted  head  knowledge.  The  particular  appli- 
cation of  evil,  the  emotional  sensing  of  the  grip  o-f 
it,  had  never  touched  him. 

To  be  sure,  Tony  had  gossiped  of  his  father,  but 
one  look  into  the  keen  kind  eyes  had  always  been 
sufficient  to  dispel  any  shadow  of  doubt.  Then 
there  had  been  some  sort  of  scandal  about  Vera's 
mother.  But  Craig  remembered  her  only  as  charm- 
ing and  rather  wistful  as  she  had  been  wont  to  pre- 
side at  Vera's  parties.  The  vicious  talk  affected 
him  not  at  all.  There  had  been  an  incident  of 
Tony's  and  Larry's  with  some  shop  girl  they  had 
picked  up  on  the  street.  Craig  had  set  the  thing 
down  as  "  common  "  and  let  the  details  go  un- 
heeded. But  evil  —  real  evil  —  no,  he  knew  noth- 
ing of  it. 

Craig's  first  year  in  college  proved  a  very  happy 
one.  He  was  free  to  do  as  he  chose,  absolutely,  and 
30 


The  Sinister  Revel 

he  took  a  certain  pride  in  the  use  he  made  of  his 
independence.  His  devotion  to  Braintree,  who  was 
beginning  to  seem  not  such  an  old  codger,  after  all, 
had  continued  with  the  years.  His  last  words  to  his 
young  pupil,  whether  spoken  in  jest  or  in  the  serious- 
ness proper  to  the  occasion,  had  lingered  in  Craig's 
mind. 

"Make  Phi  Beta  Kappa,"  he  had  said  as  he 
shook  hands. 

"  Is  that  much?  "  Craig  had  asked  rather  shyly. 

"  The  best  there  is,"  Braintree  had  answered. 

It  was  exactly  this,  Craig  had  decided  he  would 
do.  To  win  Phi  Beta  Kappa  seemed  the  highest 
tribute  he  could  pay  to  Constance  in  gratitude  for  the 
influence  she  had  exerted  over  him.  He  studied 
hard,  wresting  a  certain  pleasure  from  his  efforts, 
the  goal  ever  in  mind. 

He  made  few  friends  that  first  year  and  was  gen- 
erally set  down  as  a  snob. 

It  was  strange  that  Craig,  for  all  his  intense 
humanity,  should  have  been  destined  to  go  through 
life  stigmatized  as  a  snob.  It  was  the  accident, 
possibly,  of  his  careless  bearing,  of  his  dark  slant- 
ing eyes,  which,  even  as  they  smouldered,  showed 
an  insolent  indifference.  He  was  slight,  nervously 
agile,  of  vivid  colouring.  Had  he  been  a  less  con- 
spicuous figure,  he  might  have  been  more  popular. 
He  kept  his  own  horses,  another  fact  which  helped 
to  set  him  apart. 

Had  his  fellow  students  been  told  he  kept  so  much 

31 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  himself  for  the  purpose  of  study,  they  would  have 
taken  it  as  a  sally.  They  set  his  aloofness  down  as 
sheer  boredom.  One  looks  to  the  scion  of  a  wealthy 
stock  to  be  blaze;  Craig's  diffidence  fitted  neatly  the 
role  he  was  expected  to  play. 

Yet,  in  reality,  no  college  boy  ever  took  a  more 
naive  delight  in  the  little  things  of  community  ex- 
istence than  did  Craig.  The  hit-or-miss  scheme  of 
eating  anywhere  at  any  time  with  anybody  never 
failed  of  its  charm.  He  loved  the  informality  of 
it  all,  the  hearty  comradeship.  Class  meetings 
thrilled  him;  chapel  impressed  him.  His  recitations 
filled  him  with  awe;  the  professors  seemed  of  a 
world  apart.  His  attitude  was  one  of  the  freshest 
enthusiasm.  The  idea  of  criticizing  anything  never 
occurred  to  him;  his  allegiance  to  the  university  was 
absolute. 

William  Manning  had  entered  Harvard  at  the 
same  time  Craig  had  entered  Yale.  The  two  boys 
exchanged  visits.  Craig  had  come  back  from  Cam- 
bridge with  an  even  deeper  satisfaction  in  the  college 
of  his  choice  and  an  impression  of  Harvard,  induced 
by  William's  destructive  tongue,  as  one  grand  bungle. 
Craig  had  yet  to  learn  the  fundamental  of  view- 
point. 

The  end  of  freshman  year  found  Craig  among 
the  first  ten  in  his  class,  in  line  for  the  coveted  Phi 
Beta  Kappa.  This  more  than  compensated  for  any 
bad  moments  he  might  have  had  as  the  result  of  a 
32 


The  Sinister  Revel 

gradual  realization  that  he  was  not  popular  with  his 
fellow  students.  Of  course  he  hadn't  expected  to 
be,  really;  but  he  had  intensely  wanted  to  be  one  of 
the  crowd.  There  was  a  dull  resentment  each  time 
he  was  made  to  feel  that  he  was  distinctly  an  out- 
sider, one  whose  presence  could  easily  be  dispensed 
with.  The  particular  impression  the  boys  tried  to 
give  him  was  that  they  didn't  give  a  damn  for  his 
money.  Well  —  neither  did  he;  that's  where  the 
unfairness  of  the  deal  came  in.  He  had  been  per- 
fectly unconscious  that  he  was  richer  than  the  rest, 
till  they  themselves  had  projected  the  brute  fact 
upon  him.  He  had  spent  no  more  money  than  the 
others  at  first,  for,  lacking  in  self-confidence,  he  had 
taken  care  to  do  only  as  those  about  him  did  in  every 
particular.  Then  rumour  drifted  to  him  he  was  be- 
ing designated  as  "  stingy."  That  cut  him.  He  be- 
gan to  take  the  crowd  out  to  dinner  after  that,  only 
to  be  accused  of  trying  to  buy  his  popularity.  In 
the  end,  he  saw  the  futility  of  attempting  to  conciliate 
public  opinion.  So  he  went  his  own  way,  pretending 
not  to  care. 

Even  his  honours  he  came  to  see  were  begrudged 
him. 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  cinch  a  key?  Money  can  buy 
anything."  That  was  the  verdict. 

Craig  thought  of  his  persistent  toil.  But,  after 
all,  what  did  it  matter  —  the  boys'  slurs?  He  had 
had  a  glorious  year;  no  amount  of  petty  annoyance 

33 


The  Sinister  Revel 

could  spoil  the  satisfaction  of  an  object  achieved. 
Particularly  when  that  object  seemed  to  bring  closer 
to  him  the  girl  he  loved. 

It  is  indicative  of  what  the  year  had  done  for 
Craig  that  he  could  now  admit  quite  openly  his  feel- 
ing for  Constance.  To  be  sure,  it  was  only  gradu- 
ally that  he  had  been  able  to  bring  himself  to  the 
idea  of  being  in  love,  as  he  had  accepted  the  idea 
of  long  trousers  and  shaving  only  gradually.  But, 
once  acknowledged,  these  ideas  became  fixed  with  a 
finality  it  was  impossible  to  deny.  So,  the  fact  of 
his  being  in  love  once  admitted,  the  idea  of  marrying 
Constance  as  soon  as  he  finished  college  immediately 
took  definite  form.  The  next  few  years,  therefore, 
assumed  a  deeper  significance  as  preparation  for  the 
event  that,  by  the  light  of  his  young  experience,  he 
read  as  the  culmination  of  life's  happiness. 

There  had  been  a  correspondence  between  them, 
very  formal,  absurdly  stiff,  but  Craig  had  always 
the  delightful  thrill  of  tremulous  expectancy  as  he 
opened  each  missive.  Then,  too,  the  length  of  time 
spent  in  careful  composition  of  the  answers  con- 
stituted a  happy  intermission  in  the  routine  of  his 
studies.  Craig  wrote  nothing  of  the  honours  be- 
stowed upon  him ;  he  saved  that  for  the  telling. 

It  was  surprising  how  little  eclat  his  home-com- 
ing created  that  summer.  His  mother  was  out  at 
tea  somewhere  when  he  arrived.  Tony  was  play- 
ing polo.  His  welcome  resolved  itself  into  a  formal 
handshake  with  Horton. 

34 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Glad  to  see  you  back,  Mr.  Craig.  Come  in  and 
have  a  look  at  the  horses." 

Craig  had  not  rated  his  return  from  college  as 
epoch-making,  but  he  had  expected  a  little  warmth 
of  attention. 

His  sister,  whose  existence  he  and  Tony  had  al- 
ways comfortably  ignored,  was  playing  on  the  ter- 
race. She  stopped  long  enough  to  kiss  him.  He 
had  a  sudden  startled  idea  that  she  was  no  longer  a 
baby.  There  was  actually  intelligence  in  the  pretty 
blue  eyes. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Lili?  "  he  asked  irrelevantly. 

"  Twelve !  "  she  had  answered.  Then  with  obvi- 
ous pride,  "  I  go  to  dancing  school  now." 

This  brought  home  to  Craig  a  sharp  sense  of  his 
own  maturity.  He  felt  distinctly  of  a  generation 
that  had  passed.  He  patted  Lili's  curls  with  all  due 
dignity  and  then,  with  the  admonition  that  she  be  a 
good  girl,  went  into  the  house. 

The  two  hours  that  elapsed  before  dinner  time 
dragged  an  endless  length.  Craig's  spirits  flagged 
to  the  setting  in  of  an  apathy  that  had  its  root  in 
a  dull  feeling  of  neglect. 

"  As  sullen  as  ever,"  his  mother  concluded  that 
night  at  dinner,  as  she  tried  with  ill  success  to  draw 
him  out  in  regard  to  the  boys  he  wished  to  visit 
him. 

"  I  wonder  how  deeply  the  boy's  gone  into  things," 
speculated  his  father  with  a  keen  appraisal  of  Craig's 
particular  kind  of  good  looks. 

35 


The  Sinister  Revel 

They  discussed  the  shipping  of  Craig's  horses 
back  from  New  Haven.  There  was  a  silence. 
Then,  just  as  Craig,  having  warmed  a  little  under 
the  influence  -of  the  claret,  was  about  to  mention  his 
honours,  Tony  broke  in. 

«« I  say  — "  he  began,  the  fact  that  his  mouth  was 
full  giving  an  added  force  to  his  statement.  "  Did 
you  know  that  William  had  made  the  Crew?" 

Craig  sat  perfectly  still  before  the  sudden  swift 
vision  that  came  to  him  of  the  waste  of  his  own 
year's  efforts  and  the  misdirection  of  his  energies. 
His  strange  silence  was  interpreted  at  random. 

"Jealousy!  "  flashed  through  his  mother's  mind. 

"  Some  town  girl  1  "  was  his  father's  verdict. 

As  to  Tony  —  well  —  Tony  was  too  full  of  him- 
self and  the  season's  gossip  to  notice  anything. 

He  prattled  on,  but  Craig  heard  nothing.  He 
was  conscious  only  that  in  some  mysterious  way,  by 
a  stupid  misconception  of  values,  he  had  bungled  his 
first  year  pitifully.  The  question  he  sat  facing 
was  —  what  would  Constance  think? 

The  summer  began  badly  for  Craig.  He  was  at 
that  susceptible  age  when  the  slightest  influence  can 
work  to  a  lasting  impression,  an  age  that  through  its 
lack  of  perspective  creates  an  image  of  life  in 
grotesque  proportions.  Just  because  things  hadn't 
turned  out  as  he  expected  them  to,  he  set  himself 
down  as  a  cynic,  a  misanthrope,  and  proceeded  to 
act  according  to  rule.  This  attitude  was  to  be  de- 
plored the  more,  because,  in  reality,  he  was  still  as 
36 


The  Sinister  Revel 

boyishly  simple  as  ever.  His  nature  was  full  of  in- 
finite little  enthusiasms;  his  reactions  were  perfectly 
normal. 

Craig's  objection  to  his  home-coming  in  the  begin- 
ning had  been  that  everything  was  the  same  when  he 
had  expected  things  to  be  intensely  different.  As  the 
summer  wore  on,  however,  his  viewpoint  veered  all 
unconsciously,  and  he  found  himself  protesting  bit- 
terly because  everything  had  changed. 

This  was  indeed  true  of  "  the  bunch."  The  girls 
were  all  making  their  debuts  and  very  soon  made 
clear  to  the  boys  of  their  own  age  a  preference  for 
the  older  men.  The  younger  set  soon  lost  its  iden- 
tity entirely,  becoming  effectually  merged  into  that 
of  the  "  old  people,"  as  they  had  been  contemptu- 
ously tagged  but  a  short  while  before. 

It  was  not  at  all  to  Craig's  liking,  nor  to  Tony's 
either  for  that  matter.  "  You're  just  as  likely  to 
run  into  your  mother  or  your  grandmother  in  the 
next  cosy  corner,"  Tony  had  exclaimed  in  indigna- 
tion. 

"  And  who  the  devil  wants  to  be  cut  out  by  his  own 
father?  "  Larry  had  added  with  a  bluster. 

Craig  did  not  voice  his  protests  but  they  were  none 
the  less  heartfelt.  He  saw  less  and  less  of  Con- 
stance, but  this  in  the  end  worked  out  very  happily. 
For  his  gloom  became  so  obvious,  his  sarcastic  cuts 
at  life  so  a  matter  of  note  that  Constance  felt  called 
upon  to  seek  him  out  and  remonstrate.  This  marked 
the  turning  point  in  Craig's  summer. 

37 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Constance  had  fixed  him  with  her  translucent  gaze, 
as  she  pleaded  earnestly  that  he  throw  aside  his  cyn- 
icism. 

"  But  why  should  I?  "  he  had  demurred  with  all 
the  delicious '  thrill  of  the  hundredth  sheep  being 
rounded  up  for  fold  comforts.  "  What's  the 
good?  " 

Constance  had  sighed.  That  sigh  was  epoch- 
making  for  it  fired  Craig  with  sufficient  courage  to 
say, 

"  Does  it  matter  to  you?  " 

There  was  a  fluttering  second  in  which  Constance 
had  put  her  hand  on  his.  Then — "Didn't  you 
know  it  mattered?  "  she  said  quite  clearly. 

He  was  grateful  to  her  for  her  coolness  that  was 
all  a  part  of  her  wonderful  strength.  She  stood  to 
him  for  all  the  dim  high  things  that  his  young  mind 
had  lumped  together  in  an  ideal.  His  own  tremu- 
lous emotion  by  the  side  of  her  perfect  poise  gave 
him  the  measure  of  his  unworthiness.  But  the  joy 
her  words  started  in  his  heart  was  no  less  buoyant 
for  that. 

For  the  rest  of  the  summer  Craig's  happiness  knew 
no  bounds.  The  mists  of  his  cynicism  were  dispelled 
by  the  ecstasy  of  the  realization  that  Constance  did 
care.  This  gave  him  a  sort  of  proprietary  right  to 
her  time.  He  dared  now  to  seek  her  out  almost 
boldly.  They  rode,  drove  and  danced  together  con- 
tinually, their  understanding  the  more  beautiful,  per- 
haps, because  it  was  unspoiled  by  crude  declaration. 

38 


The  Sinister  Revel 

The  first  of  September  Mrs.  Edgemere  took  Con- 
stance away  to  Lenox.  Craig  was  disconsolate,  for 
he  interpreted  her  move  as  disapproval  of  his  suit. 
He  had  yet  to  learn  something  of  the  tactics  of  moth- 
ers, as  well  as  the  significance  of  the  fact  that  the 
millions,  one  day  to  be  his,  heralded  him  the  biggest 
catch  in  the  country. 

When  it  came  time  for  college  to  open,  Craig  was 
surprised  at  his  own  eagerness  to  get  back  into  the 
old  round  again.  He  liked  the  idea  of  having  Tony 
with  him  this  year,  for  there  were  never  any  lonely 
moments  with  Tony  about.  He  took  a  certain  satis- 
faction in  the  thought  of  initiating  his  young  brother 
into  college  mysteries,  at  the  same  recognizing  that 
Tony,  on  his  side,  could  do  a  great  deal  for  him. 
With  Tony  as  a  medium  he  might  at  last  succeed  in 
winning  recognition  from  the  other  fellows  for  there 
was  never  any  question  as  to  Tony's  popularity. 

Tony  was  undoubtedly  a  mixer,  for  all  a  certain 
snobbery  so  obvious  it  was  absurd.  He  talked  about 
democracy  in  loud,  crass  tones;  he  thumped  indis- 
criminate backs.  The  condescension  was  most  bla- 
tant, but,  somehow,  it  got  by  to  the  general  acclaim- 
ing of  Tony  as  a  jolly  good  fellow. 

"You'd  never  know  he  had  a  penny";  thus  the 
butcher's  boy  once  when  Tony  had  seen  fit  to  beat 
him  up.  "  He'd  as  lief  black  my  eye  as  one  of  the 
nobbies."  It  is  given  to  few  to  be  of  such  magna- 
nimity. 

So  Tony  had  the  precious  gift  of  winning  friends 

39 


The  Sinister  Revel 

whom  he  bullied  and  maltreated  at  will,  all  under 
the  guise  of  a  beautiful  democracy.  His  first  week 
in  college  was  a  triumphant  one.  He  was  hailed  an 
infant  prodigy  and  folded  warmly  to  the  class  bosom. 
Craig  enjoyed  it  all  immensely,  for  he  could  not  help 
getting  by  reflection  the  glow  of  good  feeling.  The 
Van  Dam  rooms  were  immediately  put  into  com- 
mission as  a  general  lounge;  the  Van  Dam  traps 
appropriated  for  public  use.  It  was  all  very  jolly, 
very  sociable,  very  humanizing  in  fact.  The  year 
stretched  ahead  rich  in  promise. 

The  night  of  the  Freshman  Rush,  there  was  the 
first  general  jollification.  About  ten  o'clock  Craig 
made  some  excuse  and  went  home.  The  crowd  on 
the  Campus,  struggling  and  yelling,  confused  him 
and  he  felt  dizzy.  It  would  seem  that  he  had  never 
quite  lost  the  vision  of  that  sinister  crowd  of  his 
childhood  delirium.  His  mind  blurred  always  to 
that  recollection  with  a  sickening  dread;  so  now. 
He  hurried  away,  seeking  to  dull  with  distance  the 
din  of  voices,  the  trampling  of  feet. 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  by  the  open  window 
of  his  study.  It  was  one  of  those  sultry  nights  the 
early  Fall  sometimes  brings.  He  tried  to  relax  but 
could  not.  His  brain  seethed  with  a  confusion  of 
images.  Details  of  yesterday  and  today  merged 
into  plans  for  tomorrow  till  his  head  ached.  There 
seemed  no  respite  ever  from  the  drag  of  thought. 
Then  suddenly  the  vision  of  Constance  as  he  had  seen 
her  last  came  to  quiet  him.  He  rose  and  turned  on 
40 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  light.  Taking  from  his  desk  a  picture,  which  he 
had  acquired  with  Mrs.  Edgemere's  reluctant  con- 
sent, he  gazed  a  long  time  into  the  clear  eyes.  The 
picture,  like  Constance  herself,  had  always  the  effect 
of  a  balm  upon  his  tired  nerves.  Sinking  into  his 
chair  again,  he  settled  to  a  somnolent  reverie  that 
soon  became  a  deep  sleep. 

About  three  o'clock  he  was  roused  by  an  infernal 
racket  which,  as  he  collected  his  startled  senses,  he 
placed  as  a  violent  kicking  outside  in  the  hall.  With 
the  dazed  thought  of  fire  in  his  mind,  he  tumbled  to 
the  door  and  threw  it  open.  There  in  ludicrous  dis- 
array and  absurdly  drunk  was  Tony,  supported  on 
the  one  side  by  Larry,  and  on  the  other  by  an  un- 
known creature  whose  uniform  confessed  the 
"  Jackie."  A  roistering  crew  as  they  stood  re- 
vealed !  But  the  sudden  apparition  of  Craig  and  the 
bright  light  of  the  room  startled  them  out  of  all  cal- 
culation. They  fell  back  precipitately.  Tony  lost 
his  balance;  so  did  Larry,  and  the  three  fell  with  a 
thud  upon  the  floor,  where  they  lay  an  indiscriminate 
heap.  There  was  a  stifled  curse  or  two,  a  groan,  a 
foolish  giggle,  and  then  all  was  still. 

Craig  stood  trembling.  He  got  the  significance 
of  the  scene  only  gradually  for  he  was  but  half 
awake.  The  revulsion  that  came  to  him  was  none 
the  less  violent  for  all  his  sophistication  that  had 
learned  to  look  on  such  scenes,  theoretically,  as  an 
essential  part  of  life.  That  people  got  drunk  he 
knew;  that  he  himself  would,  at  some  remote  future 

41 


The  Sinister  Revel 

date,  likewise  get  drunk  he  accepted  as  inevitable. 
But  here,  now,  face  to  face  with  the  thing  in  partic- 
ular application,  he  felt  a  sickening  disgust,  not  of  the 
boys  lying  there  in  grotesque  helplessness,  but  of  the 
whole  sweeping  scheme  of  life  that  embraced  in  its 
system  so  sordid  a  tenet. 

The  sound  of  an  echoing  footstep  in  the  black 
length  of  the  hall  brought  to  Craig  the  necessity  of 
immediate  action.  He  mustn't  let  Tony  get  caught. 
Poor,  naive  Craig,  who  fancied  this  scene  a  suffi- 
ciently signal  one  to  bring  the  authorities  down  upon 
them! 

He  stooped  and  shook  the  sailor  boy,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  on  top.  He,  in  turn,  with  a  mutter  pro- 
ceeded to  kick  Tony.  There  was  at  once  a  violent 
upheaval,  during  which  everybody,  struggling  up, 
threatened  to  break  the  head  of  everybody  else. 
Craig's  own  had  a  particularly  narrow  escape  as  he 
tried  to  force  the  combatants  within  the  door.  Once 
they  were  inside,  the  bright  light  made  for  a  general 
weakening  of  brute  energy  and  the  revival  of  a  glim- 
mer or  two  of  intelligence. 

Tony  rubbed  his  eyes,  looked  sheepishly  at  Craig, 
and  then  with  elaborate  politeness  offered  his  sailor 
friend  a  seat.  A  moment  later  with  a  clutch  at  his 
head  he  lunged  into  his  own  room.  Craig  followed, 
with  a  dim  perception  that  in  situations  of  this  sort 
the  services  of  a  second  were  indispensable.  He  had 
quite  recovered  his  equilibrium  by  now,  and  his  eyes 
42 


The  Sinister  Revel 

showed  hard  with  the  grim  determination  to  see  the 
thing  through  in  the  accepted  manner. 

Tony,  as  a  very  small  boy,  had  once  remarked  in 
a  plaintive  tone,  "  I  wish  I  was  old  enough  to  get 
married." 

Mr.  Van  Dam,  deeming  such  a  domestic  trend 
should  be  encouraged,  pressed  for  reasons. 

"  Because  then  I  could  get  drunk  at  my  bachelor 
dinner,"  explained  Tony  with  all  lucidity. 

The  child  was  reprimanded  roundly,  but  Mr.  Van 
Dam  couldn't  reach  his  Club  quickly  enough  to  pass 
the  joke  on. 

It  was  all  in  keeping  with  Mr.  Van  Dam's  theory 
— "  Of  course  the  youngsters  know  everything.  But 
my  idea  is  to  keep  the  check  rein  tight  till  they  get  to 
College  —  Then,  give  them  their  heads." 

It  was  the  virtue  of  one  particular  head  to  ache  in 
a  very  dull  and  dreadful  way  the  morning  after  the 
incident  just  described.  Tony  presented  a  sorry  ap- 
pearance as  he  lay  with  ice  bags  on  his  throbbing  tem- 
ples and  begged  Craig  in  a  hollow  voice  not  to  men- 
tion such  a  thing  as  breakfast. 

The  night  had  been  an  equally  heavy  one  for 
Craig,  who  showed  himself,  likewise,  a  prey  of  iner- 
tia. Strange  as  it  would  seem,  he  could  find  no 
blame  in  his  heart  for  Tony.  He  saw  him  simply  as 
the  victim  of  a  cruel  order  of  things,  and  felt  closer 
to  him  than  he  had  ever  felt  before.  He  decided  to 
chuck  his  classes  for  the  day;  he  had  never  dreamed 

43 


The  Sinister  Revel 

of  doing  it  before,  but,  somehow,  this  morning  it 
seemed  all  in  the  natural  course  of  events. 

As  Tony's  aches  subsided,  the  boys  began  to  talk. 
It  was  the  first  time  Craig  had  ever  given  himself 
unrestrainedly  to  any  one  with  all  the  intimacy  of 
touching  fundamentals,  but  there  was  something  in 
the  hush  of  the  darkened  room  that  so  intensely  in- 
vited revelation. 

It  was  with  difficulty  he  persuaded  Tony  of  his 
own  ignorance  in  regard  to  the  bibulous  art.  Tony 
would  have  been  contemptuous,  had  he  not  been  so 
sick.  But,  after  all,  Craig  did  have  a  little  the  ad- 
vantage at  that  particular  moment  as  he  looked  so 
damned  well. 

By  afternoon  they  had  threshed  out  quite  thor- 
oughly the  matter  of  getting  drunk.  Craig  was  re- 
warded with  the  astonishing  discovery  that  Tony  was 
not  at  all  sorry  for  what  he  had  done  and,  moreover, 
bore  not  a  trace  of  ill  will  against  the  general  comp- 
troller of  destinies  whose  carelessness  had  made  his 
spree  possible. 

"  Next  time  — "  Tony  had  begun,  but  Craig 
caught  him  up  abruptly. 

"  Next  time !  "  he  echoed.  "  You  don't  mean  to 
say  you'd  do  it  again !  " 

"  Of  course !  "  Tony  had  answered  with  a  show 
of  bravado.  "  What  the  devil  is  a  little  headache 
to  the  joy  of  getting  drunk!  " 

There  was  ill-concealed  mockery  in  Craig's  eyes  as 
44 


The  Sinister  Revel 

they  rested  on  his  brother,  who  presented  anything 
but  a  joyous  spectacle. 

"  Joy !  "  he  repeated  ever  so  faintly. 

Tony  nodded  sagely. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  what  you  drink,  you  know.  As  for 
that,  the  stuff's  rotten  at  the  Hof-Brau.  It's  the  — 
the  — "  He  hesitated  for  exactly  the  right  word. 
"  It's  the  letting  down,"  he  wound  up  triumphantly. 

Craig  said  nothing. 

"  It's  the  letting  go  of  yourself  that  counts,"  Tony 
went  on  in  amplification.  Then,  turning  over  wear- 
ily, "  The  trouble  with  me  is  I  think  too  much." 

Craig  could  not  help  laughing.  Tony's  state- 
ment brought  a  vague  wonder,  notwithstanding. 
After  all,  perhaps  there  was  something  in  it.  He 
balanced  the  thought  a  second.  Then  with  a  swift 
vision  of  some  of  the  details  of  the  preceding  night, 
"  But  it  is  disgusting,"  he  said. 

"  Hell !  "  was  Tony's  only  comment. 

Later,  after  a  brief  nap,  Tony  confided  to  Craig 
that  he  intended  in  the  future  to  work  out  his  sprees 
according  to  a  system. 

"  It  doesn't  hurt  you  if  you  do  it  right.  Larry 
says  his  brother  George  — " 

Craig  listened.  The  very  lurid  narrative  of 
George  Winters'  dissipations  succeeded  in  dispelling 
his  incipient  leniency.  In  the  end  he  shut  Tony  up 
abruptly  and  with  a  fine  anger  left  him  alone  to  his 
sufferings  and  his  sophistry. 

45 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Late  that  afternoon  the  boys  began  to  drop  in  to 
offer  Tony  condolences  and  to  indulge  in  much  chaff 
at  his  expense.  The  occasion  was  such  as  to  provoke 
anecdotes.  ,If  one  were  rash  enough  to  judge  from 
the  general  trend  of  these,  "  to  go  out  on  the  loose  " 
was  an  accepted  part  of  the  college  curriculum,  one 
that  made  more  than  anything  else  for  a  general 
bond  of  sympathy  and  community  of  interest.  All 
seemed  seasoned  Bacchanals,  a  staggering  discovery 
to  Craig.  Then  his  eyes  fell  on  Tony,  who  appeared 
veritably  transfigured.  Here  in  truth  was  one  who 
in  swagger  and  tavern  lore  outshone  the  rest  of  the 
crew!  Here  was  one  who  long  ago  had  cast  all 
scruple  behind  him,  who  vaunted  loudly  the  brute  fact 
of  having  brought  dissipation  down  to  schedule ! 

Craig  was  conscious  of  floating  in  an  atmosphere 
of  large  phrases,  big  ideas.  He  learned  that  one 
owed  certain  things  to  one's  manhood,  that  there  was 
a  greater  force  than  moral  law.  He  learned  —  oh, 
lots  of  things,  to  his  utter  bewildement.  Then,  of 
a  sudden,  he  saw  it  all  quite  clearly,  the  absurdity  and 
pathos  strangely  mingled.  These  boys,  for  the  most 
part,  were  playing  a  game  of  bluff,  in  the  carrying 
out  of  which  they  would  make  of  themselves  irrevoc- 
ably the  dissolute  wags  they  now  aspired  to  be.  To 
have  admitted  to  a  fine  feeling,  a  moral  sense,  would 
have  been  to  expose  oneself  to  ridicule.  His  own 
problem  to  a  nicety !  All  based  on  a  tradition,  deep 
rooted,  that  deemed  evil  a  fit  boast,  a  good  impulse  a 
thing  of  shame.  He  could  see  these  boys  as  they 
46 


The  Sinister  Revel 

grew  up.  Carly  Andrews  and  Larry  Winters,  rep- 
licas of  the  men  in  his  father's  set!  He  could  see 
Tony.  He  could  see,  God  help  him,  himself. 

As  he  stood  there,  staring  wide-eyed  at  his  vision, 
some  one  was  thumping  him  on  the  back.  It  was 
Trubey  Diehl,  the  foot-ball  star,  whose  bulk  had  al- 
ways aroused  in  Craig  the  intensest  loathing. 

"  You  must  go  out  with  us  next  time !  "  Trubey 
was  saying  with  his  fat  leer. 

As  Craig  stood  looking  at  him,  in  proportion  as 
disgust  increased,  courage  to  assert  his  own  princi- 
ples ebbed.  To  yield  seemed,  somehow,  less  a  sac- 
rilege of  those  principles  than  to  bring  them  down  to 
the  level  of  open  discussion. 

Craig  shrugged.  He  had  been  given  his  chance  to 
make  a  definite  stand  for  the  right  and  had  failed 
of  the  strength.  He  got  all  too  surely  the  craven 
concession  of  his  answer,  "  If  not  next  time  — 
some  night." 

It  was  not  the  next  time,  nor  the  next.  Tony 
made  an  elaborate  toilet  every  Saturday  night,  re- 
marked he  was  "  out  on  the  town,"  dropped  a  casual 
invitation  to  Craig  to  join  the  gang  and  then  disap- 
peared. It  was  surprising  how  quickly  Tony  learned 
a  few  things,  about  pick-me-ups,  rubdowns  and  the 
like.  He  languished  less  and  less  on  succeeding 
days,  and  seemed  well  on  his  way  to  be  the  accom- 
plished sport  of  his  dreams. 

Craig  watched,  not  less  disapproving  but  a  little 
more  curious.  There  were  Saturday  nights  when 

47 


The  Sinister  Revel 

he  was  tremendously  lonely.  He  asked  himself  at 
such  times  if  he  were  not  a  fool  to  stick  by  an  idle 
prejudice.  To  let  go!  Tony's  phrase  rang  in  his 
mind  till  it  became  almost  an  obsession.  That  was 
so  exactly  what  he  had  always  wanted  to  do,  from 
the  instant  the  killing  of  the  little  girl  had  awakened 
his  reason.  He  had  been  thinking  ever  since, 
strange,  tormenting  thoughts,  his  brain  asurge. 

Then  about  Thanksgiving  had  come  a  succession 
of  rainy  days,  when  life  resolved  itself  into  the  drear- 
iest monotony.  One  tramped  to  recitations  through 
the  wet  that  seemed  to  pervade  body,  mind  and  soul 
with  its  grey  drizzle,  or  else  sat  at  home,  brooding 
on  the  vista  of  rain-swept  roofs  outside. 

Craig's  nerves  were  in  a  desperate  state.  He 
took  things  out  on  Tony  with  a  quick  irritability,  or 
settled  to  a  dull  apathy  from  which  it  was  impossible 
to  rouse  him.  It  was  indicative  of  the  trend  of  his 
thoughts  that  Saturday  night  found  him  quite  pre- 
pared to  join  the  boys  and  to  let  go  at  any  cost.  It 
seemed,  somehow,  inevitable.  The  astuteness  of 
the  gang  was  shown  in  that,  following  Tony's  cue, 
Craig's  presence  was  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course. 
There  was  no  comment  made  as,  donning  hat  and 
overcoat,  Craig  stood  ready  with  the  rest. 

Craig  came  to  a  sullen  realization  that  night  as  the 
party  started  off  that  for  him  there  could  be  no  such 
thing  as  half-way  dissipation.  To  get  the  proper 
effect  of  a  complete  let-down,  that  part  of  him  that 
watched  and  thought  and  reasoned  must  be  reduced 

48 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  absolute  inactivity.  This  flashed  upon  him  as, 
still  not  wholly  drunk,  he  was  obliged  to  force  an 
hilarity  to  match  the  others'  mirth,  with  all  the  while 
a  sense  of  disgust  at  the  whole  proceeding.  He  de- 
liberately drank  after  that  till  all  vestige  of  his  rea- 
sonable self  had  disappeared.  Then  it  was  he  got 
the  glory  of  the  experience  as  he  had  so  wanted  it,  a 
lifting  out  of  himself,  a  treading  on  air,  a  fusion,  as 
it  were,  with  the  elements  in  a  wilder,  freer  atmos- 
phere. He  was  aware  vaguely  that  he  talked  a 
great  deal  and  unburdened  his  heart  of  a  weight  of 
confidence.  He  laughed  till  he  couldn't  see  and  sang 
lustily  with  a  delicious  abandon.  Later  came  the 
perception  that  the  situation  was  not  without  its  ele- 
ment of  sadness.  He  felt  himself  suddenly  over- 
whelmed by  a  great  love,  born  of  the  hour,  for  all 
those  dear  comrades  gathered  there  together.  Yet 
time  would  steal  them  from  him.  But  no  1  It  could 
not  be.  He  cried  out  his  determination  to  stick  by 
them  always  in  sickness  and  health.  "  Till  death  do 
us  part!  "  He  called  for  more  champagne  and  of- 
fered the  toast  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Trubey  Diehl  was  next  him.  He  turned  to  see  if 
he,  too,  nice  old  Trubey,  were  likewise  impressed  by 
the  transitoriness  of  all  joy.  But  something  star- 
tling had  happened  to  Trubey.  The  big  fat  face 
with  its  leering  grin  seemed  floating  in  space  at  least 
a  foot  above  the  hulk  of  a  body  to  which  it  belonged. 
The  sudden  apparition  brought  a  white  terror  to 
Craig.  Then  with  the  flash  idea  some  one  was  play- 

49 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ing  a  trick  on  him,  he  struck  out  blindly.  There  was 
an  instant's  hurly-burly,  a  great  crash.  Craig  was 
conscious  of  falling,  falling,  and  then  all  was  black- 
ness. 

It  evolved  the  next  morning  that  Tony,  impervious 
to  his  brother's  fate,  had  rushed  off  later  in  pursuit 
of  other  ventures,  leaving  Craig,  in  a  drunken  stupor 
under  the  table,  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Trubey. 
The  doughty  Trubey  had  risen  to  the  responsibility 
and  shown  that,  even  in  his  cups,  he  had  a  nice  appre- 
ciation of  class  when  he  came  in  contact  with  it. 
For,  taking  Craig  home  to  his  own  dingy  quarters, 
he  had  given  up  the  one  bed  without  question  to  his 
guest,  while  he  himself  had  rolled  into  a  blanket  on 
the  window-seat.  Incidentally  he  had  made  things 
all  right  with  the  waiter  Craig  had  assaulted  with 
such  unexpected  violence. 

As  Craig  came  slowly  and  painfully  to  his  senses 
the  next  morning,  Trubey's  bulk,  silhouetted  against 
the  window,  was  the  first  thing  that  caught  his  flicker- 
ing attention.  He  tried  to  think,  but,  dizzy  and 
sick  and  with  a  terrible  ache  everywhere,  he  couldn't 
concentrate  on  anything  long  enough  to  bring  it  to 
definite  form.  The  ache  he  connected  with  a  certain 
hardness,  the  sense  of  which  had  been  with  him  dur- 
ing the  whole  black  awful  night.  It  was  —  yes  — 
he  knew  now  what  it  was.  There  was  something 
the  matter  with  the  bed.  It  was  hard.  He  sat  up. 
It  was  not  his  bed.  The  linen  was  dingy,  the  blank- 
ets coarse,  the —  Well,  what  the  devil?  He  had 
50 


The  Sinister  Revel 

his  clothes  on  —  Then  his  eyes  fell  again  on  Tru- 
bey's  bulk,  a  blot  against  the  pure  morning  light,  and 
the  whole  scene  of  the  night  before  flashed  in  all  its 
sordid  detail  upon  his  poor  sick  brain.  This  was  the 
sequel  of  the  glory  of  his  night's  freedom,  this  the 
penalty  of  letting  go. 

He  tried  to  get  up,  but,  finding  himself  unsteady, 
was  obliged  to  sit  down  again.  He  wanted  to  put 
some  cold  water  on  his  head.  So,  having  rested  a 
minute  he  got  up  again,  this  time  gradually,  and  fum- 
bled about  trying  to  find  a  bath  room.  There  was 
none.  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  in  his 
weakness  and  despair  went  to  sleep  again  just  as  he 
was. 

An  hour  or  two  later  he  awoke  with  a  start.  He 
had  dreamed  he  was  falling.  Trubey  still  slept. 
Then  Craig  forged  the  determination  to  go  back  to 
his  own  rooms.  It  was  quite  simple  —  just  across 
the  way.  He  longed  so  to  get  under  the  cool  of  his 
own  shower,  into  the  refreshing  cleanness  of  his  own 
soft  bed.  Odd,  but  he  had  always  thought  it  was  of 
the  nature  of  all  beds  to  be  soft.  Well,  he  knew 
better  now.  He  was  learning  much.  Poor  Trubey, 
how  pathetic  he  looked  sprawling  there  with  his 
mouth  wide  open!  He  liked  Trubey.  He  would 
go  down  that  morning  and  buy  him  a  real  bed.  He 
shut  his  eyes  to  the  vision  of  it.  He  pictured  Tru- 
bey's  bulk  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  soft- 
ness of  a  nice  new  mattress,  till  he  disappeared  with 
a  gurgle.  Craig  made  a  grab  for  him,  only  to  real- 

51 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ize  he  was  clutching  the  leg  of  the  table.  He  had 
dozed  again.  How  stupid!  But  why  on  the  floor? 
He  strained  his  eyes  open  wide  and  perused  the  pat- 
tern of  the  rug.  Of  course  he  had  sat  down  to  think. 
He  always  thought  better  sitting  on  the  floor.  But 
the  thing  he  wanted  to  think  about  evaded  him.  He 
traced  the  outline  of  a  florid  rose  in  the  Brussels. 
Oh  —  it  was  about  going  home  and  the  shower ! 

He  rose,  feeling  his  way  up  by  the  table.  He 
looked  again  at  Trubey.  Yes,  he  was  sorry  for 
Trubey.  He  liked  Trubey,  but  the  filth  of  his  rooms 
was  disgusting.  It  made  him  feel  sick  to  think  of  it. 
He  must  get  some  air.  What  time  was  it?  He 
heard  a  tick  somewhere  but  he  couldn't  locate  it  as 
coming  from  anything  but  a  picture  of  Trubey  in 
foot-ball  costume  on  the  mantel.  This  struck  his 
sense  of  humour.  He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
and  laughed.  Tick!  Tick!  He  doubled  up  in  his 
mirth. 

Trubey  stirred.  This  brought  Craig  a  pause. 
He  must  get  out  before  Trubey  woke  up.  Trubey 
was  a  good  fellow,  but  one  had  to  draw  the  line  some- 
where. And  when  it  came  to  a  chap  who  didn't  have 
his  own  bath —  Why,  damn  it,  it  wasn't  decent! 
He  began  to  tiptoe  elaborately  to  the  door.  A  sec- 
ond's pause  to  adjust  his  balance  a  little,  and  the 
sharp  little  tick  overtook  him  again.  With  a  burst 
of  laughter  which  he  smothered  foolishly  in  his  hands 
he  staggered  out  into  the  open. 

Those  going  to  chapel  that  morning  were  treated 
52 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  the  sorry  and  yet  somewhat  ludicrous  spectacle  of 
Craig,  in  the  saddest  of  disarray,  clinging  to  the 
campus  fence  and  indulging  in  uncontrollable  mirth. 
The  ringing  of  the  bell  from  the  Chapel  Tower  had 
brought  back  in  full  force  the  absurdity  of  that 
"  tick,  tick,  tick  "  he  had  adjudged  as  coming  from 
the  very  pit  of  Trubey's  prodigious  stomach. 

"  Van  Dam  drunk  again!  "  was  the  contemptuous 
verdict  of  the  passers-by.  Chapel  time  in  a  college 
community  is  not  an  hour  conducive  to  charity  even 
in  the  breasts  of  the  most  lenient. 

However,  Larry  was  destined  to  come  to  the  res- 
cue before  any  drastic  measures  could  be  taken 
against  this  so  signal  disturber  of  the  morning's 
peace. 


S3 


Chapter  III 


It  was  given  to  Craig  never  to  lose  completely  the 
sense  of  his  own  degradations.  As  a  child,  he  had 
suffered  deeply  from  the  impact  of  the  sordid  facts 
of  life  upon  his  sensitive  nature.  He  would  not  be- 
lieve that  life  could  be  so  ordered  till  time  had  forced 
a  dull  acceptance  of  the  truth.  So  in  his  own  dissi- 
pations. The  fact  that,  granted  human  nature,  cer- 
tain excesses  were  not  only  accepted  but  expected  by 
the  world,  intensified  rather  than  lightened  his  own 
sense  of  guilt.  It  was  as  if  the  weakness  of  his  sur- 
render to  existing  conditions  constituted  a  greater 
crime  as  helping  accelerate  the  evil  he  should  have 
strained  every  effort  to  check  by  deprecation. 

His  drunken  spree  brought  him  a  deep  gloom,  for 
he  recognized  the  fact  it  was  but  the  first  with  many 
others  to  follow  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  man- 
aged to  keep  out  of  things,  however,  for  two  weeks, 
tormenting  himself  mercilessly  with  the  vision  of 
Constance.  He  could  not  write  the  usual  weekly  let- 
ter, so  had  let  it  go.  Then  he  had  lied  to  her. 
"  Work  has  been  piling  up,  my  only  excuse  for  not 
having  written  before."  He  hated  himself  for  the 
subterfuge,  but  what  was  there  to  do?  To  tell  her 
the  truth  might  have  worked  to  his  redemption,  but 
he  deemed  her  too  innocent  to  understand. 

54 


The  Sinister  Revel 

The  parties  that  followed  brought  the  same  ruth 
of  indecision,  the  same  relief  of  abandon,  the  same 
trail  of  disgust  Each  was  different  from  the  pre- 
ceding only  in  that  it  seemed  more  inevitable. 

It  was  about  this  time  a  new  factor  entered  into 
a  situation  already  too  intricate.  Craig  had  come 
to  realize  that  his  presence  for  some  reason  or  other 
acted  as  a  check  upon  the  other  boys'  freedom  of  dis- 
cussion. This  was  evidenced  by  many  an  exchange 
of  innuendo  behind  his  back,  by  a  sudden  embar- 
rassed drop  of  the  conversation  when  he  came  un- 
expectedly upon  the  scene,  above  all  by  an  unusual 
furtiveness  of  action  on  the  part  of  Tony. 

A  clue  to  the  mystery  was  furnished  one  day  when 
he  and  Tony  were  out  driving.  They  passed  a 
crowd  of  girls  on  Chapel  Street.  What  was  Craig's 
surprise  to  see  an  extremely  self-conscious  Tony  bow- 
ing and  smiling  to  the  diverse  members  of  the 
group,  each  eager  for  individual  recognition. 

Craig  said  nothing  but  there  flashed  into  his  mind 
a  passage  between  Tony  and  himself  his  first  vaca- 
tion. 

"  Any  girls?  "  Tony  had  asked  with  his  customary 
air  of  all-world  experience. 

"  No,"  Craig  had  answered.  Then  as  an  after- 
thought, "  Of  course  there's  the  Dean's  daughter  and 
Professor  Bateman  has  one  or  two  — " 

Tony  had  given  him  a  queer  look. 

"  How  about  town  girls?  "  he  had  pursued,  bold 
of  suggestion. 

55 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  they  don't  count,"  Craig  had  an- 
swered. 

It  is  exactly  this  virtue  of  not  counting,  as  Craig 
was  afterwards  to  learn,  that  makes  the  town  girls 
such  an  insidious  influence  in  the  lives  of  the  boys 
with  whom  they  are  brought  in  contact.  There  is 
no  moral  responsibility  assumed  in  dealing  with  these 
girls,  a  fact  which  tends  to  undermine  the  sense  of 
moral  responsibility  in  general.  It  would  seem  that 
a  kindly  providence  out  of  a  mistaken  charity  had 
placed  a  given  number  of  these  girls  in  each  col- 
lege town  as  so  much  free  material  to  be  used  for 
experimental  purposes.  They  are  there,  to  hand, 
waiting  to  be  dealt  with,  and  they  have  no  more 
power  to  alter  their  status  than  the  little  guinea  pigs 
who  give  their  squealing  lives  each  day  in  the  labora- 
tory that  science  may  progress.  The  guinea  pig  is 
learning  not  to  struggle  at  his  sacrifice.  So  is  the  lit- 
tle town  girl.  The  tradition  of  her  class  teaches  her 
to  smile  even  as  she  provokes  her  destiny  on  the 
street  corners. 

Another  day,  as  Craig  was  driving  Tony  and 
Larry  out  to  the  athletic  field,  they  encountered  the 
same  group  of  girls. 

"Stop  a  minute,  will  you?"  cried  Larry,  and 
Craig  drew  up  at  the  curb. 

He  kept  his  eyes  on  his  horse,  flicking  an  imag- 
inary fly  off  here  and  there  from  the  glossy  hide. 
Had  he  studied  his  effect  he  could  not  have  produced 
a  more  powerful  one.  He  was  so  essentially  the 

56 


The  Sinister  Revel 

young  plutocrat,  insolent  in  his  indifference,  yet  with 
a  suppressed  intensity  in  his  strange  dark  eyes.  Lit- 
tle did  Craig  guess  that  for  a  year  and  a  half  he  had 
been  the  centre  of  interest  to  that  group  of  girls,  who 
had  watched  him  with  an  all-absorbing  curiosity  as 
he  rode  and  drove  through  the  streets,  who  had 
waited  and  hoped  and  finally  despaired  of  his  remote- 
ness. 

As  they  drove  off  that  day  there  was  no  conscious- 
ness in  Craig's  mind  of  having  created  an  impression, 
only  a  certain  envy  for  the  knack  of  easy  badinage 
that  seemed  so  delightfully  Tony's. 

Craig  celebrated  his  twentieth  birthday  soon  after 
this  little  incident.  There  was  a  surprise  involved  in 
regard  to  which  Tony  was  particularly  mysterious. 
Telegrams  flashed  back  and  forth  between  him  and 
his  father,  and  there  prevailed  an  undercurrent  of 
excitement  equalled  by  nothing  that  the  advent  of  a 
birthday  had  ever  produced  before.  The  surprise 
itself  more  than  justified  the  blaze  of  its  trail.  It 
was  a  brilliant  red  motor.  Automobiles  were  the 
latest  fad,  an  expensive  one,  however,  but  few  could 
afford  to  take  up.  It  was  given  to  Craig  to  be  a 
pioneer  in  the  new  field.  A  demonstrator  brought 
the  machine  down  from  New  York  and  nothing 
would  do  but  the  boys  must  have  immediate  instruc- 
tion. They  piled  in,  some  half  dozen  of  them,  and 
started  off  with  a  yell. 

Their  progress  through  the  town  was  marked  by 
a  confusion  on  the  part  of  the  natives  that  well- 

57 


The  Sinister  Revel 

nigh  approached  a  panic.  Women  and  children 
screamed,  horses  ran  away,  men  swore.  The  police 
intervened  but,  as  the  demonstrator  proved  conclu- 
sively he  was  keeping  well  within  traffic  limitations, 
nothing  could  be  done.  Tony  and  Larry  roared 
with  delight;  Dick  kept  punching  the  horn.  Only 
Craig  was  uneasy  at  the  menace  of  the  gathering 
throng  and  welcomed  the  country  roads  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

The  car  was  soon  christened  "  The  Red  Devil  " 
and  made  for  a  notoriety  of  its  owner  very  little  to 
his  liking.  He  felt  himself  pointed  out,  a  conspic- 
uous object,  every  time  he  appeared,  and  recognized 
again  that  force  antagonistic  to  himself  and  what  he 
stood  for.  Yet  in  time  the  threats  that  blocked  the 
progress  of  the  machine  gave  way  to  a  lively  curios- 
ity. A  pushing  crowd  surrounded  the  car  every  time 
it  was  left  to  its  straining,  panting  self.  A  certain 
pride  that  New  Haven  was  holding  its  own  when  it 
came  to  the  patronage  of  new  inventions  caused 
"  The  Red  Devil  "  to  be  made  boast  of  in  neighbour- 
ing districts  less  able  to  keep  up  to  date. 

"  Ninety  miles  an  hour,"  the  good  citizens  boasted, 
whereas  in  reality  Craig  conscientiously  kept  his  man 
down  to  fifteen.  He  did  not  deceive  himself  that  the 
growing  leniency  toward  the  car  extended  to  its 
owner. 

It  was  the  possession  of  the  car  that  precipitated 
the  first  really  tragic  event  in  Craig's  life.  As  may 
be  imagined  "  the  girls  "  had  been  in  a  state  of  ex- 

58 


The  Sinister  Revel 

citement  bordering  on  hysteria  ever  since  the  Red 
Devil  had  arrived.  They  haunted  the  street  corners 
to  get  glimpses  of  it  as  it  streaked  by;  they  panted 
through  cross  streets,  doubled  on  their  tracks, 
climbed  fences  and  in  general  resorted  to  the  most 
drastic  of  measures  to  cut  it  off  in  its  progress.  The 
days  were  accounted  worth  while  in  proportion  to 
the  number  of  glimpses  of  "  it  "  and  incidentally  of 
"  him  "  each  brought  forth. 

It  was  Tony  who,  running  into  the  crowd  at  a 
variety  show  one  afternoon,  had  been  brought  to  a 
proper  appreciation  of  what  a  ride  in  "  it  "  would 
mean  to  these  simple  uninitiate.  So  he  had  broached 
the  subject  to  Craig.  The  next  day  they  had  picked 
up  four  fair  ones  waiting  in  all  eagerness  for  just 
such  a  possible  event.  Craig  was  driving.  So  en- 
grossed was  he  in  doing  deftly  what  he  was  supposed 
to  do  in  regard  to  gears  and  speeds,  that  there  might 
have  been  just  the  usual  crowd  of  boys  in  the  ton- 
neau  for  all  the  difference  it  made  to  him.  The  in- 
cident was  repeated  again  and  again.  Craig  came 
to  know  one  of  the  girls  was  called  Ann  May;  an- 
other, who  seemed  Tony's  special  protegee,  he  identi- 
fied as  Babe.  He  listened  in  an  abstracted  way  to 
the  babble  of  voices,  took  as  a  matter  of  course  the 
general  jollity  and  then  quite  lost  the  sense  of  it  all 
as  he  speeded  up  his  machine  in  the  long  country 
roads. 

Tony  had  eventually  suggested  "  supper  out  there 
somewhere  for  the  bunch."  "  Out  there  "  meant 

59 


The  Sinister  Revel 

any  of  the  outlying  inns  frequented  by  the  boys  for 
their  sprees. 

"  But  you  couldn't  take  the  girls  so  far  out,"  ob- 
jected Craig. 

"  Don't  be  an  ass,"  rejoined  Tony. 

"  We'll  take  Godwin,"  suggested  Larry.  "  Then 
you  can  get  squiffed,  too,  Craig." 

Craig  swore  hotly.  The  party  was  not  at  all  to 
his  liking  and  he  would  have  none  of  it.  Prepara- 
tions went  on  apace,  however;  the  supper  was  set  for 
the  following  Saturday  night. 

Craig's  objection  was  rooted  in  the  deepest  disap- 
proval, ill-defined,  till  Billy  Severn  pointed  it  neatly. 

"  They're  such  a  cheap  crowd,"  Craig  had 
vouched  by  way  of  excuse. 

"  But  that's  just  where  the  sport  comes  in,"  an- 
swered Billy.  "  They  have  to  stand  for  anything." 

Exactly  the  point!  It  was  because  they  would 
have  to  stand  for  anything  that  Craig  held  back. 
An  unfair  advantage,  like  the  baiting  of  helpless  ani- 
mals! He  was  beginning  to  realize  vaguely  what 
the  town  girl  represented;  it  revolted  him.  But  as 
for  Tony  and  Larry  —  pure  josh  there  !  Granted, 
however,  the  harmlessness  of  it  all,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  the  point  of  seeing  any  woman  cheap- 
ened to  make  sport  for  a  lot  of  cubs. 

Then  in  the  intricacies  of  his  thought  had  been 
born  the  idea,  none  the  less  disconcerting  for  its  un- 
reason, that  not  to  go  was  in  the  nature  of  a  conces- 
sion that  endowed  with  a  certain  force  the  very 
60 


The  Sinister  Revel 

thing  he  meant  to  deprecate.  Once  started  this 
idea  worked  to  a  vacillation  that  rendered  Craig 
an  object  to  be  shunned  by  the  other  fellows.  He 
actually  snarled  at  them,  went  off  and  got  half 
drunk  by  himself  and  was  generally  miserable. 
Then  the  thought  struck  in  the  others  didn't  want 
him  anyway.  That  settled  it;  he  decided  to  go  in 
spite.  Saturday  night  found  him  waiting  with  the 
others  for  the  car,  but  with  a  countenance  that  boded 
ill  for  the  jollity  of  the  coming  party. 

"  I'll  drive,"  he  had  said,  and  motioned  Godwin 
to  the  seat  by  his  side. 

They  picked  the  girls  up  at  Poll's.  After  they  had 
piled  into  the  tonneau  with  much  affected  commo- 
tion, Craig  slammed  the  door  with  an  unmistakable 
viciousness,  just  missing  one  of  Babe's  bejewelled  fin- 
gers. The  look  in  his  eyes  quite  quashed  her  out- 
cry. 

"  Gloomy  day!  "  muttered  Tony,  and  Babe  pro- 
ceeded to  smother  a  laugh  on  the  comfortable  ex- 
panse of  his  shoulder. 

It  was  raining.  Craig  drove  on  recklessly,  soon 
leaving  the  town  far  behind.  He  thought  of  noth- 
ing but  the  gloom  of  the  night  that  seemed  but  the 
reflection  of  his  own  thoughts.  He  wished  intensely 
he  hadn't  come.  Damn  it  all,  if  those  girls  didn't 
stop  squealing  every  time  the  car  skidded,  he'd  run 
afoul  the  next  tree  they  came  to.  He  hated  parties. 
He  hated  girls,  these  girls  in  particular.  So  he 
brooded  on.  The  rain  splashed  on  the  wind  shield 

6l 


The  Sinister  Revel 

and  blew  into  his  face.  He  speeded  up  and  felt  sud- 
denly better.  After  all,  he  was  sorry  for  these  poor 
girls,  for  what  could  life  have  in  store  for  them  worth 
while?  Doubtless  this  outing  meant  much,  and  they 
had  been  looking  forward  to  it  eagerly  the  whole 
week.  He  began  to  wonder  what  they  did  when 
they  weren't  hanging  about  on  the  street  corners. 
Some  factory !  Maybe  the  five  and  ten  !  Well  — 
it  wasn't  up  to  him  to  gloom  their  party. 

A  burst  of  laughter  caused  him  to  turn  around; 
he  forced  a  smile  through  the  darkness. 

"  Almost  there !  "  he  called  out  cheerfully. 

One  of  the  girls,  leaning  forward,  put  her  hat  on 
his  head;  he  could  even  endure  that  a  second  before 
he  tossed  it  back  with  a  laugh. 

"  It's  clearing  up !  "  said  Tony,  and  one  got  in- 
stinctively the  accompanying  wink.  At  which,  in 
Babe's  vernacular,  they  all  nearly  "  split  their  sides." 

The  girls  were  cheap,  unquestionably  so,  but  their 
cheapness  was  not  without  its  element  of  the  pathetic. 
For  they  struggled  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of  a 
misconceived  gentility  with  all  the  while  a  sense  of 
their  belittlement  at  the  hands  of  those  they  were  at- 
tempting to  deceive.  Babe,  in  particular,  with  her 
elaborate  affectations,  her  pretence  at  ease  and  air, 
was  the  most  conspicuous  failure  of  all,  and  so  the 
better  sport  for  Tony.  She  was  big  and  dark  and 
tawdry.  Pearl  and  Marguerite  were  the  Irish  type, 
failing  only  Irish  simplicity.  Then  there  was  Ann 
May. 
62 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Things  began  well,  for  there  was  something  in  the 
air  of  the  old  Inn  conducive  to  irresponsibility  and  a 
tendency  to  let  go.  They  had  a  private  room, 
lighted  by  candles;  a  roaring  fire  made  for  an  inti- 
mate comfort  after  the  chill  ride  in  the  rain. 

"  We'll  have  champagne,"  announced  Tony  as 
master  of  ceremonies. 

The  girls  tried  to  look  indifferent  but  their  eyes 
were  eager.  At  last  they  were  to  be  treated  as  the 
real  thing. 

"  Eight  beers !  "  said  Tony,  turning  to  the  waiter. 

Larry  and  Billy  guffawed  loudly.  The  girls 
joined  in  to  hide  their  mortification;  they  were  used 
to  such  treatment.  But  Craig  was  furious. 

"  This  is  my  party,"  he  announced  and  turned  to 
order  cocktails  and  champagne. 

"  How  much  champagne?  "  asked  the  waiter  with 
deference. 

"  As  much  as  we  can  drink,  of  course,"  Craig 
had  answered  and  determined  it  wouldn't  be  his 
fault  if  the  party  was  not  a  go. 

The  first  hilarity  was  strained,  depending  for  the 
most  part  on  slang  phrases  aptly  rendered,  catch 
lines  from  popular  songs,  jolly,  josh,  suggestion  and 
evasion,  reference  to  other  parties  and  the  like,  with 
all  the  while  a  byplay  of  little  familiarities  ill  con- 
cealed. The  whole  thing  was  extremely  artificial. 

"  If  these  girls  would  only  be  themselves,"  Craig 
had  thought,  even  as  he  found  himself  saying  to  Ann 
May, 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Where  do  you  live?  " 

"  In  Congress  Avenue,"  came  the  ready  answer. 
"  Babe  and  I  have  two  rooms  on  the  top  floor  in  a 
boarding-house  there.  We  live  together  because  it's 
cheaper." 

It  was  the  first  human  note  Craig  had  heard 
struck,  and  he  looked,  suddenly  intent,  at  the  little 
girl  who  had  dared  to  strike  it.  She  was  small  and 
plump,  of  pretty,  elusive  colouring.  The  only  thing 
that  made  for  individuality  was  a  mass  of  yellow 
hair.  This  held  his  attention  now.  Odd,  he  hadn't 
noticed  Ann  May's  hair  before  ! 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  down,"  he  had  ventured 
with  a  daring  look,  as  he  poured  out  more  cham- 
pagne for  them  both. 

But  she  had  not  followed.  "  What?  "  she  asked 
with  a  blush  in  answer  to  his  scrutiny. 

At  that,  there  was  a  general  pushing  back  of 
chairs  and  shouting.  Some  one  had  begun  to  play 
the  piano. 

Artificiality  and  restraint  broke  down  now  from 
their  own  weight  and  eternal  youth  took  possession. 
They  sang  and  danced,  grew  drunker  and  drunker, 
revelled  in  nonsense  and  absurdity.  Babe  officiated 
at  the  piano  for  a  while  with  sentimental  arpeggios 
till  her  discords  were  caterwauled  to  nothing. 
Then  I  arry  played,  swinging  the  stool  about  between 
notes.  It  was  very  exciting  for  the  dancers,  thus 
obliged  to  hold  balance  till  Larry  came  back  to 
tempo.  All  went  well  till  the  top  of  the  piano-stool 

64 


The  Sinister  Revel 

turned  ugly,  coming  off  at  an  inopportune  moment 
and  giving  Larry  a  nasty  spill.  Nothing  daunted, 
however,  he  went  right  on  playing  with  his  feet. 
The  resulting  crash  of  notes  called  forth  on  the  part 
of  the  others  a  new,  most  startling  kind  of  dance  of 
Apache  order,  accompanied  by  disorganized  yelling. 
The  intervention  of  the  manager  at  this  point  saved 
their  reason  to  say  nothing  of  the  furniture. 

Then  Larry  squirted  a  bottle  of  champagne  at 
Billy,  who  in  turn  threw  lobster  claws  at  the  girls. 
Marguerite,  in  her  efforts  to  smoke  with  the  aban- 
don of  a  vaudeville  adventuress,  set  fire  to  her  beruf- 
fled  blouse.  The  damage  was  slight  but  two  more 
bottles  of  champagne  were  sacrificed.  The  little 
lady  showed  a  signal  discretion  even  in  her  cups,  for 
she  draped  herself  modestly  in  the  table  cloth  while 
the  gutted  waist  was  spread  to  dry. 

Oh,  it  was  all  quite  wonderful!  Craig  took  back 
everything  he  had  said  or  thought  detrimental  to  the 
members  of  the  party.  He  revelled  in  the  glorious 
intimacy  of  it.  Poor  fat  Babe  over  there,  nearly 
prostrate,  with  Tony  making  heroic  attempts  to  hold 
her  up.  And  Billy  Severn  struggling  with  a  pun, 
something  about  his  brogue  Pearl.  He  was  too  far 
gone  to  get  it  over  but  there  was  a  lively  screaming 
at  his  attempts. 

As  to  Ann  May  —  Craig  had  danced  every  dance 
with  her,  pressing  her  close  in  the  frenzy  of  the 
music.  But,  with  it  all,  things  were  quite  all  right. 
So  Craig  kept  reminding  himself. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

There  was  a  glow  over  everything,  a  hazy  warmth 
of  good  feeling  that  made  the  eventual  breaking  up 
of  the  party  seem  like  a  tragedy.  Craig  didn't  want 
to  go  home.  He  kept  trying  to  order  more  cham- 
pagne but  his  objections  were  overruled  by  the  oth- 
ers; before  he  knew  what  was  happening  they  were 
all  singing  "  Good-night,  Ladies  "  to  the  tune  of 
Boola  Boola  and  climbing  into  the  car.  Once  set- 
tled in  the  darkness,  it  seemed  as  if  their  words  and 
voices  and  actions  were  not  their  own,  an  illusion 
which  gave  a  pleasant  feeling  of  easiness,  conducive 
to  anything.  Craig  felt  only  a  vague  desire  to  have 
Ann  May  next  him. 

"Ann  May!"  he  murmured  and  felt  a  pair  of 
arms  about  his  neck. 

The  next  second  with  a  strange  blur  of  all  his 
senses  he  found  himself  kissing  her. 

It  was  a  wild  ride  home.  Godwin  had  been  inter- 
rupted in  making  love  to  one  of  the  maids  whom 
he  had  been  plying  with  champagne  to  advantage. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour,"  he  had  promised  when 
summarily  called.  The  reckless  plunge  through  the 
driving  rain  was  the  result.  The  car  swayed  and 
swerved;  the  blackness  rushed  by.  But  Craig  was 
conscious  only  of  the  spell  of  Ann  May's  kisses  and 
the  soft  curves  of  her  body  as  she  lay  contentedly  in 
his  arms. 

A  cluster  of  lights,  irregular,  eerie  through  the 
steady  downpour,  flashed  upon  them.  Craig  roused 
66 


The  Sinister  Revel 

himself  and  realized  they  were  within  reach  of  New 
Haven. 

"  Go  slowly!  "  he  cried  out  but  Godwin  did  not 
hear. 

They  got  into  town,  dropped  Billy  and  Mar- 
guerite, Larry  and  his  baroque  Pearl.  They  turned 
into  Congress  Avenue. 

"  Drive  about!  "  shouted  Craig  but  they  were  al- 
ready at  a  standstill  with  Tony  and  Babe  on  the  side- 
walk. Ann  May  was  getting  out,  too,  and  pulled 
him  with  her.  Craig's  whirling  brain  not  yet  took 
the  full  significance  of  the  move ;  not  even  as  Godwin 
pulled  off  with  a  surly  "  Good  night  "  and  he  saw 
Tony  fumbling  with  a  latch  key. 

"  Just  a  minute  !  "  Ann  May  had  pleaded  and  they 
were  suddenly  inside,  stumbling  up  a  creaky  old  stair- 
case. 

Tony's  voice  could  be  heard  ahead.  They  got  to 
the  top,  out  of  breath,  dizzy.  Tony  opened  a  door; 
there  was  the  splutter  of  a  match.  A  flickering  light 
brought  a  certain  self-consciousness  to  all.  Babe  and 
Ann  May  made  essay  at  straightening  tumbled  locks. 
Tony  looked  at  Craig. 

"  Hell!  "  he  exclaimed,  and  before  Craig  in  his 
bewilderment  could  grasp  what  was  happening  Tony 
and  Babe  had  disappeared  into  a  room  beyond  and 
shut  the  door. 

It  was  evidence  of  how  drunk  he  was  that  Craig 
felt  only  a  wild  surge  of  joy  at  the  revelation  that 

67. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

now  came  to  him  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Ann  May, 
tremulous,  waiting. 

"Ann  May!  "  he  cried  in  an  ecstasy  of  strange 
unbelief.  "  Ann  May !  "  It  was  all  but  a  part  of 
the  moment's  glow,  an  incident  in  the  night's  revel, 
but  it  seemed,  somehow,  to  poor  Craig  in  his  drunken 
muddle  the  culmination  of  life's  glory. 

"Ann  May!  "  he  cried  once  more.  Then,  with 
the  sweep  of  an  emotion  that  overwhelmed  him  com- 
pletely, he  staggered  forward.  With  an  odd  little 
laugh  he  pulled  a  pin  from  her  hair;  then  catching 
her  wildly  to  him,  he  buried  his  hot  face  in  the  yel- 
low masses  as  they  came  tumbling  down. 


68 


Chapter  IV 

It  was  to  the  sickening  sense  of  having  sunk  to 
the  lowest  depths  of  all  depravity  that  Craig  awak- 
ened next  morning.  How  he  had  managed  to  get 
home  he  never  knew.  His  passion  had  been  like  a 
furious  flame  burnt  out  quickly,  followed  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  an  irreparable  calamity  that  had  driven 
him  out  into  the  blackness  of  the  rain,  overwhelmed 
by  the  horror  of  the  thing  he  had  done.  But  his 
maudlin  self-condemnation  of  the  night  was  as  noth- 
ing to  that  which  came  with  the  cold  light  of  reason 
in  the  morning.  He  felt  that  he  had  for  ever  sullied 
his  relationship  to  women,  and  set  himself  down  as  a 
libertine.  Simple,  frank  and  fraternal  intercourse 
was  no  longer  possible.  He  could  never  again  meet 
the  clear,  pure  eyes  of  Constance;  he  had  forfeited 
the  right  to  her  love.  It  was  all  very  absurd  and 
very  young,  but  his  sufferings  were  no  less  real  for 
the  folly  of  his  youthful  viewpoint,  which  accounted 
death  the  wages  of  sin.  It  was  but  the  accident  of 
Craig's  temperament  that  he  could  never  bring  him- 
self to  make  compromise  with  his  weaknesses. 

He  had  risen  slowly  and  painfully  that  morning  to 
find  it  was  after  twelve.  He  looked  into  Tony's 
room.  Tony  was  sleeping  peacefully.  There  were 
no  agonies  of  self-accusation  depicted  on  his  bland 

69 


The  Sinister  Revel 

countenance,  only  an  infinite  contentment  as  of  satis- 
faction with  the  scheme  of  life  in  general.  Craig 
had  turned  away  hurriedly.  He  dressed  and  rushed 
off  to  the  stable  for  his  horse.  The  quick  gallop 
failed  of  its  usual  effect,  however.  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful day,  the  sky  a  deep  blue,  but  his  depression  was 
intensified  by  contrast.  He  rode  himself  to  a 
numbed  fatigue  and  then  went  to  a  small  inn  to  din- 
ner. He  was  tired,  dead  tired  and  drank  much  to 
revive  his  energies. 

As  he  sat  there  he  brooded  over  the  details  of  the 
party  the  night  before  and  found  only  detestation  for 
it  all.  But  because  this  was  so,  there  came  a  little 
hope.  He  had  tried  himself  out,  and  could  now  put 
evil  behind  him  forever.  It  was  given  to  just  such 
women  as  Constance  to  point  the  way  to  better 
things.  But  there  must  be  honesty  and  understand- 
ing between  them.  No  more  evasions !  He  would 
tell  Constance  the  truth,  confess  it  all.  He  would 
write  her  at  once.  This  seemed  no  longer  a  viola- 
tion of  her  innocence,  but  a  tribute  to  her  strength  — 

He  paid  his  check  and  started  home.  He  would 
write  that  night.  He  rode  slowly,  a  tender,  melan- 
choly look  in  his  eyes.  He  put  his  horse  up  at  the 
stable. 

"  Nice  ride,  Mr.  Craig?  "  his  coachman  asked. 

"  A  wonderful  ride,"  Craig  exclaimed,  and  there 
was  a  vast  satisfaction  in  his  tone. 

As  he  neared  his  own  dormitory  he  saw  lights  in 
his  study  and  the  grotesque  shadows  of  heads  against 
70 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  curtains  of  his  bow  window.  He  hesitated.  A 
post  mortem  of  last  night's  orgy!  It  sickened  him. 
Then  he  looked  up  at  the  sky  above  him.  The  moon 
was  just  mounting  the  blue  wall  of  the  heaven.  A 
moment's  vacillation,  another  glance  at  the  lighted 
windows  and  he  registered  the  determination  to 
chuck  it  all  for  an  hour  or  two  at  the  Hof-Brau. 

Two  hours  later  Craig  turned  unsteadily  into  Con- 
gress Avenue,  and  mounted  the  steps  of  a  shabby 
boarding-house.  A  woman  opened  the  door  fur- 
tively. There  was  a  brief  exchange.  Craig  stepped 
inside  and  the  door  closed  with  a  dull  thud. 

Craig  did  not  struggle  after  that.  He  took  this 
phase  of  life  as  inevitable,  as  he  had  taken  his  child- 
ish diseases.  Yet,  side  by  side  with  the  conviction 
that  it  was  all  just  a  part  of  the  universal  scheme, 
there  was  a  feeling  of  dismay  at  the  weakness  of  his 
surrender.  It  is  given  to  the  illogical  to  suffer  most 
keenly,  perhaps,  through  the  very  confusion  of  their 
perceptions  of  value. 

Craig  became  surly  with  the  other  boys,  except 
when  he  was  drunk.  Gradually  all  banter  in  regard 
to  his  continual  pilgrimages  to  Congress  Avenue 
ceased.  One  little  incident  will  tend  to  show  some- 
thing of  the  state  of  Craig's  nerves  at  this  time. 

He,  Larry  and  Tony,  while  driving  one  day,  were 
hailed  by  the  doughty  Diehl.  Craig  had  pointedly 
avoided  Trubey  since  their  first  spree,  but  occasional 
encounters  were  unavoidable.  Craig  was  feeling 
particularly  down  this  day.  His  gloomy  counte- 

71 


The  Sinister  Revel 

nance  was  made  at  once  the  subject  of  Trubey's 
coarse  jocularity.  Craig  kept  still.  Then  Trubey 
with  his  usual  leer  ventured  a  remark  about  a  "  cer- 
tain little  blonde."  Craig's  eyes  smouldered  as  he 
turned  his  attention  to  his  horse.  Larry  giggled;  so 
did  several  other  boys  who  had  joined  Trubey  on  the 
curb.  Trubey,  wishing  to  point  the  intimacy  with 
Craig  that  had  been  so  widely  his  boast,  now  essayed 
a  familiar  wink  and  began  to  whistle  a  catch  lay  — 

"  Who  were  you  with  tonight,  tonight? 
Oh,  who  were  you  with  tonight?  " 

Then  a  very  startling  thing  happened.  Craig  had 
leaped  from  the  box  and  thrown  himself  in  an  impo- 
tent fury  upon  Trubey.  It  was  childish;  it  was  ab- 
surd. Trubey  could  have  knocked  him  all  to  pieces 
had  he  so  desired,  but  still  in  the  grip  of  class  tradi- 
tion he  had  simply  dodged  the  onslaught.  Tony  and 
Larry  had  now  interceded  and  managed  to  get  hold 
of  Craig. 

"  I'm  sorry,  old  man,  didn't  mean  anything," 
Trubey  hastened  to  say,  and  there  was  nothing  for 
Craig  to  do  but  let  it  go  at  that.  How  he  hated  that 
servile  deference  though !  He  would  have  infinitely 
preferred  a  square  deal  and  the  thrashing  he  knew 
he  deserved.  He  took  his  anger  out  on -the  horse, 
which  he  drove  to  a  white  foam. 

The  parties  were  the  only  occasions  upon  which 
Craig  was  able  to  assume  any  cheerfulness,  and  it  was 
for  this  reason  he  saw  to  it  that  sprees  were  regularly 
72 


The  Sinister  Revel 

instituted.  Three  or  four  times  a  week  the  crowd 
gathered  for  their  fun,  which  became  more  and  more 
unlicensed  as  time  went  on.  Not  that  these  parties 
were  orgies,  for  an  orgy  is  entirely  of  those  whose 
senses  are  jaded  with  satiety.  A  youthful  exuber- 
ance, bubbling  enthusiasm,  marked  these  meetings; 
nothing  was  too  insignificant  to  be  reckoned  as  a 
lark.  They  romped  and  danced,  got  boisterously 
drunk,  and  then  went  home  tired  and  happy  in  each 
other's  arms. 

It  never  occurred  to  Craig  to  take  Ann  May  out 
by  herself.  He  had  gauged  all  too  accurately  the 
shallowness  of  her  cheap  little  soul.  What  was 
there  they  could  have  said  to  each  other?  It  was 
simply  that  she  fitted  in  with  the  bunch,  that  she  had 
been  the  first  to  stir  his  senses.  Had  he  fallen  to  the 
charm  of  any  special  woman  he  might  have  worked 
out  a  justification  for  his  actions.  But  it  was  des- 
tined that  it  should  be  just  Ann  May,  Ann  May  with 
her  tawdry  shirt-waists  and  absurd  high-heeled  shoes. 

However,  Craig  did  not  think  of  all  this  when  he 
was  drunk.  He  thought  only,  as  on  that  first  night, 
of  the  glory  of  being  young  and  eager  and  foolish,  of 
the  joy  of  letting  go. 

So  for  six  months  our  revellers  continued  their  fun. 
With  the  coming  of  spring  a  still  livelier  party  was 
planned.  '  It  was  carried  through  with  a  daring  of 
intention,  a  disregard  of  expense  and  effort  quite  be- 
yond ordinary  comprehension.  Craig  was  the  ring 
leader.  It  would  seem  as  if  that  element  in  his  na- 

73 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ture,  that  was  to  strive  continually  for  something  a 
little  beyond  what  the  present  offered,  was  beginning 
to  assert  itself. 

The  old  Inn  that  had  been  the  scene  of  their  first 
party  was  selected,  not  because  of  any  sentiment  in- 
volved, but  owing  to  the  greater  leniency  of  its  con- 
cierge. Decorations,  costly  favours,  an  Hawaiian 
orchestra,  lured  from  Poli's,  were  all  in  order.  It 
smacked  of  high  life;  the  youngsters  thrilled  accord- 
ingly. 

It  was  a  lark,  a  rip-roaring  one.  As  they  were 
piled  into  the  machine  afterwards  by  Godwin  and  the 
rubicund  proprietor,  they  could  have  wept  that  it  was 
over,  that  life  couldn't  always  go  on  just  that  way 
to  the  wild  sweet  strains  of  Hawaiian  music.  Craig, 
as  host,  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  make  a  speech 
from  the  top  of  the  stairs,  but,  overcome  by  emotion, 
he  lost  his  balance  and  fell  full  length  below.  God- 
win picked  him  up  but  before  he  had  a  chance  to  re- 
gain the  thread  of  his  discourse  he  found  himself 
thrown  ignominiously  into  the  car  with  the  rest  of 
the  bunch  where  his  beautiful  sentiments  were  wasted 
in  the  darkness. 

Craig  was  conscious  of  very  little  that  happened 
from  that  time  on.  He  remembered  only  stumbling 
up  the  crooked  stairs  of  the  boarding-house  with  his 
arm  about  Ann  May.  He  remembered  the  black- 
ness that  pressed  close  about  them  as  they  fumbled 
with  the  key,  but  that  was  all.  Everything  else 
blurred  to  nothing. 

74 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  was  awakened  an  hour  later  by  a  shouting 
and  din  that  seemed  all  a  part  of  his  turbulent  slum- 
ber. There  was  a  confusion  of  voices,  a  rapping 
somewhere.  Then  he  was  conscious  of  being  vio- 
lently shaken.  The  next  minute  he  was  on  his  feet. 
There  was  the  splutter  of  a  match  and  he  found  him- 
self staring  into  Ann  May's  terrified  eyes.  He  was 
conscious  of  her  flushed  face  and  dishevelled  hair, 
of  their  huge  grotesque  shadows  hovering  about  them 
on  the  slanting  walls.  Then  the  match  flickered  out 
and  they  were  in  darkness. 

"  It's  a  raid,"  Ann  May  barely  articulated,  and 
there  came  in  confirmation  gruff  voices  below,  a  more 
insistent  rapping,  a  woman's  scream  and  something 
that  sounded  like  a  scuffle.  Then  as  they  stood, 
clinging  together  in  their  apprehension  and  fear, 
heavy  footsteps  started  up  the  stairs. 

Ann  May  rushed  to  the  window.  Craig  followed 
her.  Grabbing  his  raincoat  he  threw  it  hastily  over 
her  night  dress,  but  he  lost  time  by  it  for  she  was 
already  out  on  the  crazy  fire-escape. 

"  Let  me  go  first,"  he  cried,  but  she  was  too  fright- 
ened to  give  heed  and  started,  stumbling  and  crying, 
down  the  steps.  Craig's  coat  caught  in  the  shutter 
as  he  climbed  over  the  sill;  he  wrenched  it  loose  with 
an  oath.  Ann  May  was  already  a  flight  ahead  of 
him,  a  slim  white  figure  in  the  blackness.  Then 
there  flashed  into  the  yard  below  the  light  of  a  lan- 
tern, another  and  another.  A  shout  went  up,  their 
escape  was  cut  off. 

75 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  had  almost  overtaken  Ann  May  now. 
"Stop!"  he  cried  desperately.  "Stop!"  His 
foot  caught  on  the  coat  that  had  fallen  from  her 
shoulders.  He  put  out  his  hand  to  stay  her,  but  as 
he  did  so  another  shout  went  up  from  the  gathering 
crowd  below,  this  time  sharp  and  threatening. 
Craig  caught  one  glimpse  of  those  upturned  faces, 
lurid  in  the  light  of  the  flickering  lanterns.  The  old 
instinctive  dread  proved  stronger  than  his  conscious 
will;  before  it  everything  collapsed.  He  stood  sud- 
denly still,  trembling,  and  then  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands  to  shut  out  the  sinister  vision.  Even  as 
he  did  so  Ann  May  had  stumbled  over  some  old 
flower  pots  and  with  a  wild  cry  of  terror  plunged 
through  a  gap  in  the  rusty  rail  to  the  pavement, 
thirty  feet  below.  The  faint  thud  of  the  body  was 
drowned  in  a  great  shriek  that  went  up  from  the 
crowd,  a  shriek  of  execration,  unmistakable  in  its 
menace.  At  the  same  instant  lights  and  faces  ap- 
peared on  the  landing  above. 

Craig  had  a  second's  sharp  pain  as  of  a  pointed 
instrument  on  a  nerve,  and  then  sank  a  huddled  heap 
on  the  landing.  In  his  mind  was  neither  horror  for 
the  tragedy,  nor  pity  nor  grief,  only  the  indifference 
of  overwhelming  prostration. 


Part  II 


Chapter  V 


Mr.  Renway  Potter  was  distinctly  put  out.  The 
idea  of  taking  an  eight  o'clock  train  didn't  win  him 
at  all,  even  in  the  interest  of  his  best  client.  He  set- 
tled himself  as  comfortably  as  he  could  in  the  dingy 
coach,  and  proceeded  to  think  things  over. 

Mr.  Van  Dam's  telephone  had  roused  him  from 
that  first  heavy  sleep  which  invariably  follows  a  late 
Club  supper.  Needless  to  say,  he  had  not  grasped 
very  clearly  the  details  of  what  Mr.  Van  Dam  was 
seeking  to  convey.  There  was  something  about  his 
boy  being  in  trouble.  As  Mr.  Potter  concentrated 
now  he  seemed  to  remember  Mr.  Van  Dam  as  men- 
tioning the  fact  that  his  boy  was  in  jail.  Jail!  Oh 
yes,  the  thing  was  beginning  to  straighten  itself  out 
now.  Town  girl  —  ugly  business  —  a  couple  of 
years  abroad  —  carte  blanche.  Mr.  Renway  Potter 
jotted  down  a  few  notes  in  his  note  book,  blew  a 
cinder  from  his  cuff,  and  then  settled  again  to  medi- 
tation. This  time  thought  was  not  without  its  balm. 
Mr.  Van  Dam  was  recalled  as  having  added  quite 
casually  and  at  the  moment  of  shutting  off  that  his 
private  car,  then  in  New  London,  would  be  in  New 
Haven  at  noon  at  his  (Mr.  Renway  Potter's)  dis- 
posal. Mr.  Potter  glowed  and  expanded.  It 
would  sound  so  well  in  retrospect. 

79 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  I  was  coming  up  from  New  Haven  one  day  in 
the  Vagrant  — "  A  remark  of  the  sort,  dropped  cas- 
ually, would  give  tone.  It  might  even  be  worked 
into  an  after-dinner  anecdote,  for  that  matter. 

Mr.  Potter  felt  much  better,  with  the  result  of 
warming  somewhat  to  the  work  ahead  of  him.  How 
bad  a  scrape,  he  wondered,  had  the  young  Van  Dam 
managed  to  get  himself  into  I  But  then,  whatever 
the  business,  it  would  be  fairly  easy  of  adjustment 
with  the  Van  Dam  wealth  to  be  tapped.  As  for  that 
—  his  mind  swept  numerous  little  difficulties  of  Mr. 
Van  Dam's  own  making. 

The  rest  of  the  trip  was  pleasant  enough,  Mr. 
Renway  Potter  investing  in  his  mind's  eye  the  neat 
little  income  that  would  undoubtedly  accrue  to  him 
when  both  the  young  Van  Dams  came  into  their  oats. 

"  History  repeats  itself,"  he  said  with  no  sense  of 
the  banal.  A  complete  satisfaction,  rather,  with  this 
neat  arrangement  of  Destiny! 

Godwin  was  at  the  Station  to  meet  him,  excited 
and  loquacious.  Godwin  had  ever  a  lean  to  the  dra- 
matic, and  was  now  in  his  proper  element.  He  told 
the  story,  the  details  rendered  no  less  lurid  by  his  tell- 
ing. Mr.  Potter  showed  the  proper  appreciation. 
Then  Godwin  went  over  the  salient  facts  again,  by 
way  of  philosophizing  here  and  there. 

"  Mr.  Tony  was  at  the  same  place,"  he  said,  "  but 
he  knew  enough  to  pass  over  his  wad  and  so  got 
away.     It's  Hell  —  beg  pardon,  sir  —  what  money 
can  do,  isn't  it  now?  " 
80 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Mr.  Potter  admitted  that  it  was,  certainly,  and 
Godwin  continued. 

"  The  girl's  not  dead  yet,  but  close  to  it,  I  reckon. 
It's  all  in  the  mornin'  papers.  Feelin's  high  in  the 
town.  But  there's  worse  things  than  Death  for  a 
woman." 

"  Infinitely  worse  things,"  murmured  Mr.  Potter. 

"  A  crowd  of  loafers  threw  stones  at  me  up  in  the 
Square  there,"  Godwin  went  on.  "  I  guess  the  Red 
Devil's  done  for  in  this  town.  But  the  common  peo- 
ple always  hate  the  swells.  Poor  Mr.  Craig!  If  it 
hadn't  a  been  for  one  of  the  coppers  he'd  a  been  all 
beat  up  by  the  crowd.  There's  a  strike  up  at  one  of 
the  mills  and  a  lot  of  bums  hangin'  'round  all  night 
just  waitin'  for  a  row.  I  didn't  get  there  till  he  was 
all  locked  up,  an'  Mr.  Tony  he  blubbered  so,  it  was 
up  to  me  to  telephone  the  old  man.  He  took  it 
mighty  calm.  '  Oh,  we'll  fix  it  up  all  right,  Godwin,' 
he  says.  *  Tell  Mr.  Tony  not  to  worry  but  to  keep 
under  cover  for  a  couple  of  days  — '  " 

A  number  of  people  were  gathered  about  the  jail 
as  they  drove  up.  A  mutter  or  two  greeted  Mr.  Pot- 
ter as  he  alighted.  He  rather  enjoyed  the  situation. 
So  did  Godwin,  as  he  rested  in  an  insolent  indiffer- 
ence at  the  wheel. 

Mr.  Potter's  reception  was  a  most  cordial  one. 
Those  who  in  the  excitement  of  the  raid  had  treated 
Craig  most  shamefully  regretted  it  over  night. 
Moral  indignation  had  ebbed.  In  its  place  was  a 
speculation,  running  rife,  as  to  the  exact  number  of 

81 


The  Sinister  Revel 

figures  at  which  the  Van  Dam  fortune  was  esti- 
mated. A  feeling  of  importance  pervaded  all  the 
officials  of  the  jail  as  of  those  in  touch  with  big 
finance.  Besides,  the  girl  was  not  going  to  die,  the 
newspapers  notwithstanding.  This  fact,  in  itself, 
was  sufficient  justification  of  so  sudden  a  change  in 
attitude. 

Mr.  Potter  showed  himself  superbly  master  of 
the  situation.  He  shook  hands  indiscriminately, 
exuded,  as  it  were,  a  clubby  atmosphere,  under  the 
genial  spell  of  which  he  in  short  order  reduced  the 
tragedy  to  the  slight  proportions  of  a  college  boy 
prank.  There  was  a  sort  of  "  we  men  of  the 
world  "  idea  conveyed,  and  our  officials  hastened  to 
measure  to  the  standard. 

Mr.  Potter  called  the  chief  "  old  chap,"  spoke 
of  a  little  dinner  at  the  Club  next  time  he  came  to 
the  City,  told  a  racy  story.  There  was  a  little  talk 
of  technicalities,  a  mention  of  Mr.  Van  Dam  as  a 
man  of  signal  generosity,  quite  by  the  way  of  course. 
Then  Mr.  Potter  looked  at  his  watch;  a  half  hour 
had  been  quite  sufficient  to  settle  everything  satis- 
factorily. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  for  the  boy,"  he  had 
dropped.  "  Which  reminds  me  — "  Another  an- 
ecdote! Mr.  Potter  felt  the  responsibility  of 
making  his  get-away  a  graceful  one.  He  left  them 
a  minute  later  with  a  swelling  sense  of  their  own  im- 
portance and  smiling  broadly  at  his  last  "  mot." 
82 


The  Sinister  Revel 

The  hospital  was  the  next  stop.  A  consultation 
with  the  Doctor  ensued,  a  young  man  of  ambition 
and  gloom,  as  Mr.  Renway  Potter  read  him. 

He  had  shaken  his  head.  "  No,  she  won't  die, 
just  linger  on." 

Mr.  Potter  was  very  solicitous,  listened  with  the 
keenest  interest  to  the  particulars  of  the  case.  He 
took  occasion  to  congratulate  the  doctor  on  his 
clever  diagnosis. 

"  Spinal  injuries  of  this  sort  are  quite  incurable?  " 
he  had  asked. 

The  Doctor  had  nodded  glumly. 

Mr.  Potter  gave  a  deep  sigh.  It  really  was 
depressing,  and  he  could  so  little  afford  the  time 
to  be  depressed. 

"Are  there  any  relatives?"  Back  on  business 
ground  again,  he  breathed  more  freely. 

"  Only  a  brother,"  answered  the  Doctor. 

Mr.  Potter  extracted  the  necessary  details  as  to 
this  brother.  He  was  a  ne'er-do-weel,  on  the  town 
for  the  most  part.  Was  planning  to  make  a  good 
thing  out  of  his  sister's  accident  — 

Mr.  Potter  did  not  doubt  his  own  efficacy  in 
dealing  with  a  person  of  this  sort,  so  dismissed  him 
summarily  and  turned  again  to  the  disposition  of 
Ann  May. 

"  It's  tremendously  sad,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
Then  as  if  balancing  a  new  idea  a  second  — 

"  If  we  could  find  the  right  man  to  give  her  the 

83 


The  Sinister  Revel 

best  of  care  always  —  it  might  be  the  nucleus  of  a 
private  sanitarium.  Mr.  Van  Dam's  recommenda- 
tion of  a  place,  you  understand  — " 

The  Doctor's  dull  eyes  showed,  as  they  lighted 
up,  that  he  did  understand.  Mr.  Potter,  on  his  side, 
was  seijene  of  his  choice.  The  Doctor  was  an 
honest  man,  and  Ann  May  would  be  in  competent 
hands. 

Mr.  Potter,  before  leaving  the  hospital,  had  asked 
to  see  the  patient.  It  was  a  sudden  curiosity  that 
prompted,  one  he  regretted  intensely,  however,  as 
he  stood  with  the  Doctor  in  the  darkened  room. 

Ann  May  was  strapped  to  the  bed;  her  face, 
strained  and  contorted  with  pain,  seemed  all  the 
whiter  for  the  halo  of  yellow  hair  on  the  pillow. 
She  was  in  a  stupor,  but  moaned  now  and  again. 

Mr.  Renway  Potter  controlled  himself  sufficiently 
to  ask: 

"How  long  will  it  last?"  but  the  words  were 
barely  articulate. 

The  Doctor  shrugged. 

"  She  will  probably  live  to  be  an  old  woman.  It 
happens  that  way  often  when  they're  taken  young." 

Then,  turning  to  the  nurse  who  hovered  in  the 
background,  the  Doctor  gave  a  few  directions.  Mr. 
Potter  heard  something  about  hair. 

"  Must  it  be  cut?  "  the  nurse  asked  sadly. 

The  figure  on  the  bed  stiffened  somewhat.  The 
eyes  opened  and  Mr.  Potter  for  one  fleeting  instant 
looked  into  them.  But  that  instant  was  sufficient  for 


The  Sinister  Revel 

him  to  get  the  full  force  of  the  dumb  appeal  in  their 
depths. 

"  See  here,"  said  Mr.  Potter  as,  trembling  vio- 
lently, he  turned  to  the  Doctor.  "  Don't  cut  it." 
Then  in  a  low  voice:  "Not  yet  awhile,  anyway." 

A  second  later  he  was  outside,  steadying  himself 
with  deep  breaths  of  fresh  air,  but  the  vision  of 
that  darkened  room  stayed  with  him  even  as  he 
drove  through  the  noisy  streets. 

He  went  to  the  dormitory  next.  It  was  a  very 
subdued  and  chastened  Tony  who  greeted  him. 
Larry  and  Billy  were  there,  too,  white  and  scared. 
They  had  apprehended  an  arrest  or  a  subpoena  at 
Mr.  Potter's  knock  and  became  almost  hysterical 
when  the  tension  was  relieved  by  the  disclosing  of 
their  visitor's  identity. 

Mr.  Potter  conducted  himself  breezily.  Simp- 
son, the  boys'  valet,  had  also  come  down  on  the 
eight  o'clock  train. 

Simpson,  through  long  service,  was  considered 
quite  one  of  the  Van  Dam  family.  His  jargon  was 
a  particular  delight.  He  was  "  h'originally  born 
in  London,"  as  he  put  it,  but  his  cockney  had 
long  since  blurred  into  a  lingo  all  his  own  that  was 
not  without  its  air  of  drawing-rooms.  He  was  at  his 
best  in  situations  of  the  present  sort.  He  was  now 
packing  Craig's  things;  two  trunks  already  loomed 
ominous  of  departure.' 

Mr.  Potter's  advent  presented  a  nice  opportunity; 
Simpson  fairly  bristled  as  host.  The  two  exchanged 


The  Sinister  Revel 

unique  bits  as  to  the  weather  and  then  made  play  at 
the  expense  of  the  New  York,  New  Haven  and 
Hartford,  all  in  an  endeavour  to  put  the  boys  at 
their  ease.  In  vain,  however !  Tony  continued  to 
stare  blankly;  nor  did  Larry's  monosyllabic  replies 
exactly,  as  Simpson  put  it,  "  give  them  a  leg  up." 

Newspapers  were  lying  about  everywhere,  of  un- 
mistakable headlines.  Godwin's  contributions  to 
the  general  cheer,  so  it  developed.  A  complete  col- 
lection ! 

Mr.  Potter's  eyes  could  find  no  place  to  rest 
without  being  confronted  by  the  lurid  things,  so, 
being  a  man  with  a  certain  claim  to  ingenuity,  he 
ended  by  perusing  the  pictures  on  the  walls.  Simp- 
son's comments  were  very  lucid  on  "  modern  h'art." 

Finally  Tony,  in  desperation,  blurted  out, 

"What  are  they  going  to  do  to  him?"  Then, 
covering  his  face,  he  burst  into  a  giant  sob. 

The  rest  was  simple,  the  boys  proving  easy  ma- 
terial to  Mr.  Potter's  hand.  Simpson  played  up 
beautifully,  too.  In  twenty  minutes  all  gloom  was 
dispelled,  the  sting  of  tragedy  drawn.  The  reaction 
made  for  jollity. 

As  Mr.  Potter  was  leaving  he  adjured  Tony 
to  be  at  the  train  promptly  at  a  quarter  to  twelve. 

"You  bet!  "  answered  Tony  jovially,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  his  voice  to  mark  him  as  the  con- 
vulsive sufferer  of  a  few  minutes  before. 

Mr.  Potter  had  one  other  little  errand  to  do. 
He  stopped  at  the  Registrar's  office  just  long  enough 
86 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  tender  Craig's  resignation  from  College.  'Twas 
well  to  anticipate  expulsion !  Mr.  Potter  then  drove 
to  the  jail. 

The  Vagrant  was  surrounded  by  a  curious  crowd 
as  Mr.  Potter  and  Craig  went  aboard.  Tony  and 
Simpson  were  already  there.  The  two  boys  had 
shaken  hands  formally,  as  over  a  gulf  of  years. 
Tony's  sang-froid  deserted  him  suddenly  and  he 
stood  a  full  minute  gulping  down  his  feelings  be- 
fore he  could  bring  himself  to  say: 

"  It'll  be  lonely  as  Hell  without  you." 

So  stunned  had  Craig  been  by  the  tragedy  that  he 
had  lost  all  sense  of  the  future.  But  at  Tony's 
words,  he  got  all  of  a  sudden  the  waste  of  years  as 
they  stretched  ahead.  A  great  wave  of  homesick- 
ness swept  him.  Again  that  old  shake  of  his  nerves ! 
He  felt  that  he  must  break  down  or  cry  or  faint. 

Simpson,  in  the  meantime,  at  a  motion  from  Mr. 
Potter,  had  brought  forward  some  whiskey  and  a 
siphon.  Tony  had  turned  to  the  window  and  was 
struggling  heroically  to  work  off  his  emotions  in  a 
scraping  whistle. 

Mr.  Potter  poured  out  some  straight  whiskey  for 
Craig,  which  he  took  at  a  gulp.  High  balls  were 
in  order  for  the  rest.  Even  Mr.  Potter  wasn't 
so  awfully  sure  of  himself.  And  as  for  Simpson 
—  well,  Simpson  took  occasion  to  blow  his  nose  very 
frequently,  between  jokes,  as  it  were,  intended  in 
an  English  way  to  liven  things  up  a  bit. 

By  the  time  the  train  was  ready  to  start  Craig 


The  Sinister  Revel 

had  found  voice,  a  hollow  sepulchral  one,  but  never- 
theless a  voice.  He  promised  to  write  Tony  every 
Sunday  and  Tony  promised  to  write  him  every  Sun- 
day. 

"  And  when  exams  are  over,  maybe  Dad  will  let 
me  join  you  abroad — " 

Tony  was  now  showing  the  stuff  he  was  made  of. 
Craig  must  have  a  jolly  send-off.  He  pulled  him- 
self together  with  a  supreme  effort. 

"Paris!  Whew!  Can't  you  see  us?"  He 
cocked  his  hat  on  one  side,  gave  a  sly  wink,  executed 
a  quick  step. 

Mr.  Potter  smiled  his  appreciation.  Simpson 
roared  deferentially.  Craig  brightened  immedi- 
ately. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  he  said.  There  was 
a  hurried  discussion  of  ways  and  means. 

"  Leave  it  to  me.  I'll  fix  it  up,"  Tony  cried 
gaily. 

"  All  aboard !  "  came  the  shout.     "  All  aboard !  " 

And  before  the  bubble  of  excitement  could  be 
pricked  Tony  had  shaken  hands  and  darted  out.  On 
the  platform  he  stood  waving  wildly  and  contorting 
his  face  without  scruple  into  last  messages,  until  the 
train  had  pulled  out  of  the  station. 

The  trip  to  the  City  dragged  an  interminable 
length.  Craig  was  tired,  dead  tired.  He  had  gone 
to  his  own  bed  room,  his  and  Tony's,  and  thrown 
himself  on  the  bed.  He  did  not  sleep,  but  sank  to  a 
coma  of  dulled  perceptions,  and  deadened  pain.  A 


The  Sinister  Revel 

passing  train  crashed  into  his  apathy  ever  and  again 
and  left  his  nerves  jangling. 

Just  before  reaching  New  York,  Simpson,  who 
had  been  having  a  nip  with  Mr.  Potter  and  extract- 
ing an  extra  detail  or  two  in  regard  to  the  scandal, 
came  in  elaborately  atiptoe.  He  brought  fresh 
linen,  laid  out  another  suit,  tempered  the  water  for 
shaving. 

Craig  roused  himself  to  ask  the  time. 

"  Twenty  minutes  more!  "  said  Simpson  cheerily. 

Craig  sat  up.  A  glance  at  Simpson's  prepara- 
tions, and  he  realized  for  the  first  time  how  dis- 
hevelled he  must  be.  He  got  up  hurriedly  and  went 
to  the  glass.  The  face  that  looked  back  at  him  was 
haggard.  There  were  sharp  little  lines  about  the 
eyes  and  mouth.  His  hair  was  rumpled,  his  coat 
badly  torn.  One  pocket  flap  was  pulled  off  en- 
tirely; some  one  in  the  crowd  — 

"  Hell !  "  he  exclaimed  as  the  car  zigzagged  and 
he  nearly  lost  his  balance. 

Simpson  with  a  swift  guess  at  his  nerves  withdrew 
softly.  A  minute  later  he  returned  with  some 
brandy. 

"  All  right!  "  Craig  had  said  after  he  swallowed 
it.  Then  with  another  glance  at  himself  in  the 
glass,  he  gave  an  odd  little  laugh. 

"  The  crowd  nearly  finished  me,  Simpson,"  he 
said.  Then,  after  a  pause,  "  Would  to  God  they 
had!" 

Byronic,  to  be  sure !     But  it  must  be  recollected 

89 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  was  only  twenty  and  had  spent  the  night 
before  in  the  close  blackness  of  a  cell. 

Simpson  met  the  situation  adequately.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  effective  than  the  timely  tear 
he  dropped,  as  he  stood,  of  melancholy  mien,  sharp- 
ening the  razor. 

They  drove,  Mr.  Potter  and  Craig,  to  the  Union 
Club,  where  Mr.  Van  Dam  awaited  them.  The 
three  lunched  together.  Craig  had  never  felt  at 
ease  with  his  father;  he  felt  even  less  so  in  Mr. 
Potter's  presence.  He  was  painfully  conscious  of 
being  young  and  awkward,  the  more  so  as  the  others 
made  such  obvious  attempts  to  make  him  feel  as 
one  of  them.  There  was  no  mention  made  of  the 
rumpus. 

After  lunch  Mr.  Van  Dam  suggested  that  Craig 
go  to  his  rooms  and  rest.  "  An  hour  or  so,  while 
I  have  a  chat  with  Mr.  Potter,"  he  said  breezily. 
"  You're  no  doubt  tired  from  the  trip  — " 

Craig  followed  the  suggestion  dumbly.  Up- 
stairs he  sat  down  and  stared  into  space.  His 
brain  was  a  blank  except  for  a  wisp  or  two  of  thought 
that  floated  across  the  open  of  his  mind  and 
disappeared.  How  handsome  his  father  was ! 
Strange,  he  had  never  noticed  it  before.  And  Mr. 
Potter  failed  so  of  the  right  air.  He  wondered 
vaguely  what  Tony  was  doing  — 

Mr.  Van  Dam  joined  him  an  hour  later. 

"  How  about  a  drink?  "  he  asked,  glancing  at 
Craig,  then  rang  for  some  whiskey  and  soda.  "  By 
90 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  way,  have  you  tried  these  Club  cigarettes?" 

Craig  roused  himself  to  light  one.  It  went  out 
a  minute  later  but  he  did  not  notice  it.  Mr.  Van 
Dam  did,  however.  "  It's  struck  in,  poor  cub!  "  he 
thought,  and  judged  it  the  kindest  policy  to  go  to  the 
point  at  once.  It  was  his  cue  to  make  light  of  the 
incident. 

"  It's  the  sort  of  scrape  every  man  gets  into  at 
your  age.  That  is,  every  man  of  mettle."  So  he 
wound  up.  "  As  for  the  girl  — " 

Craig  winced.     Mr.  Van  Dam  took  a  short  cut. 

"  Of  course  Mr.  Potter  has  told  you  — " 

Craig  nodded. 

"  Well,  then,  there's  no  necessity  of  our  going  into 
the  matter.  Now  to  another  point  —  how  old  are 
you?" 

"  Twenty !  "  said  Craig. 

Whereupon  Mr.  Van  Dam  proceeded  in  the  most 
businesslike  of  tones  to  sum  up  what  he  termed  the 
Van  Dam  policy.  This  consisted  in  short  of  leaving 
the  bulk  of  the  fortune  to  the  eldest  son. 

"  I  got  fifty  odd  millions,"  he  went  on  to  explain, 
"  against  your  Uncle  Billy's  five.  It  seems  hardly 
a  fair  division  of  spoils,  but  family  tradition  you 
know  — " 

Craig  had  a  vague  idea  that  this  exposition  on 
family  finance,  a  thing  never  brought  to  open  dis- 
cussion before,  was  by  way  of  preliminary  to  a 
formal  disinheritance.  He  was  to  learn,  however, 
in  blank  astonishment,  that  his  father  had  in  mind 

91 


The  Sinister  Revel 

something  quite  different.  Not  only  was  he  still 
accepted  as  the  rightful  heir,  but  a  sum  of  two 
millions,  which  his  father  had  intended  to  settle 
upon  him  on, his  twenty-first  birthday,  was  to  be  his 
now,  at  once,  as  soon  as  they  could  get  to  the  solici- 
tor's office  and  sign  some  necessary  papers. 

"  I  want  to  break  you  in,  you  see  — "  Mr.  Van 
Dam  had  answered  to  Craig's  obvious  bewilder- 
ment. u  And  as  you  are  starting  out  in  the  world 
earlier  than  I  expected  — " 

Craig  lost  the  rest  of  it.  The  thing  was  incredi- 
ble. In  his  heart  he  felt  no  gratitude,  nor  pride  of 
possession,  only  a  dull  wonder  at  the  world's  ways. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  with  Mr.  Van  Dam's 
solicitor  in  chief.  Craig  signed  where  he  was  told 
to  sign,  but  the  legal  points  of  it  all  passed  quite 
over  his  head. 

He  had  brought  himself  later  to  ask  about  his 
mother  and  Lili. 

"  They're  in  the  country,"  Mr.  Van  Dam  had 
said.  "  I  think  it's  just  as  well  they  are.  Not  that 
your  mother  would  blame  you  at  all,  but  she  might 
balk  at  the  notoriety — " 

They  were  lucky  enough  to  catch  Braintree  by 
phone  just  as  he  was  leaving  for  the  Adirondacks. 
This  as  a  result  of  Mr.  Van  Dam's  asking  if  there 
wasn't  some  one  Craig  would  like  to  take  along  with 
him.  The  choice  had  brought  Mr.  Van  Dam  faint 
surprise.  Craig,  too,  for  that  matter,  for  old 
Braintree  had  quite  passed  out  of  his  life  a  year 
92 


The  Sinister  Revel 

since.  The  sudden  impulse  may  have  shown  an 
unconscious  reaching  for  some  straw  of  the  old  ex- 
istence of  simplicity  and  innocence. 

There  followed  an  hour's  lounge  at  the  Club. 
Then  Craig  and  his  father  dressed  for  dinner  to- 
gether, an  unprecedented  event.  Craig  rose  to 
meet  the  intimacy  of  the  occasion  with  difficulty.  It 
was  all  a  part  of  that  chaotic  arrangement  of  things 
out  of  which  he  could  bring  no  semblance  of  order. 
That  his  father  could  bring  himself  to  condemn 
his  guilt  seemed  of  itself  incomprehensible;  but  that 
he  should  make  of  that  guilt  a  bond,  as  it  were,  to 
put  them  on  the  grounds  of  a  good  fellowship  that 
had  never  existed  before,  worked  to  a  swift  per- 
ception of  the  looseness  of  all  morality.  His  fath- 
er's leniency,  instead  of  letting  him  down  easy,  suc- 
ceeded only,  through  the  larger  vision  of  depravity 
it  projected,  in  intensifying  his  own  sense  of  par- 
ticular wrong-doing. 

The  wages  of  sin  in  his  instance  had  proved  the 
neat  settlement  of  two  million  dollars,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  a  beautiful  equality  with  those  whose  part  it 
should  have  been  to  ostracize  him.  That  nice, 
white-haired,  fatherly  old  man  at  the  bank  —  Mr. 
John  Wellington  Ames,  his  father's  broker,  desig- 
nated as  "  A  man  of  iron  principle."  Then  there 
was  Braintree.  Did  Braintree  know?  But  there 
had  been  no  hesitancy  in  Braintree's  tone  as  he  had 
answered  with  a  heartiness  that  made  the  wire  ring, 
"  Europe !  With  you,  Mr.  Craig !  You  bet !  " 

93 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Mr.  Van  Dam  talked  on  as  they  dressed  and 
Craig  found  himself  answering  mechanically  even 
while  his  thoughts  ran  riot. 

"  How  about  a  show  after  dinner?  "  This,  as 
they  were  having  a  preliminary  cocktail  before  going 
downstairs. 

Craig  didn't  know,  didn't  care  really.  A  bottle 
of  champagne  later  brought  the  dim  perception  that 
an  act  or  two  of  a  musical  comedy  might  not  go  so 
badly  after  all.  He  was  finding  it  easier  to  talk 
to  his  father  as  time  went  on.  Mr.  Van  Dam 
glanced  at  a  few  of  his  own  past  indiscretions  with 
such  a  delicate  drollery  Craig  could  not  help  smiling. 
Then  they  got  together  on  Tony. 

"  He  systematizes  his  dissipations,  you  know," 
Craig  had  wound  up,  at  which  Mr.  Van  Dam  laughed 
long  and  heartily. 

"  A  common  little  chap,"  Mr.  Van  Dam  com- 
mented at  length.  "  But  damned  lovable."  After 
a  pause  he  continued,  "  Tony  is  the  sort  that  gets  by 
always,  just  because  —  he  has  no  fine  feelings.  Fine 
feelings,  somehow,  never  score." 

Then  as  if  Craig  might  make  too  particular  ap- 
plication of  the  remark  Mr.  Van  Dam  hastened  to 
find  another  topic.  Only  once  did  he  strike  the 
note  of  paternal  advice  and  this  was  at  the  end  of 
the  dinner. 

11  There's  just  one  thing  I  ask  of  you,  Craig," 
he  had  said  with  decided  emphasis.  "  Don't  marry 
out  of  your  own  set.  We  don't  do  that,  you  know." 

94 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  said  nothing. 

"  And  marry  a  good  woman." 

"  But — "  Craig  began,  and  then  reddened. 

His  father  got  his  thought,  however. 

"  You  can  marry  any  woman  you  choose,  what- 
ever you  may  do.  I  could  have,"  he  added  drily 
and  rose  to  go. 

They  were  late  in  getting  to  the  theatre  and  were 
obliged  to  take  a  box.  The  stage  revealed  the  bevy 
of  beauties  advertised,  but  Craig  got  no  thrill  of 
them.  They  were  not  flesh  and  blood  to  him,  only 
a  succession  of  painted  puppets. 

Mr.  Van  Dam  was  recognized  at  once  and  be- 
came the  focal  point  of  interest  for  the  rest  of  the 
performance.  A  couple  of  his  friends  joined  him 
in  the  box.  Later  they  all  strayed  out  into  the 
lobby  between  acts.  Craig  was  still  extremely  con- 
scious of  his  youth,  but  he  enjoyed,  notwithstanding, 
the  quiet  subtlety  of  his  father's  friends.  He  recog- 
nized the  fact  that  their  worldliness  was  based  on  the 
sound  footing  of  good  taste. 

"  A  handsome  boy,  Henry."  This,  Mr.  James 
Winslow  Brittingham  to  Mr.  Van  Dam  as  his  eyes 
followed  Craig. 

"  I  read  of  his  little  escapade  in  the  evening 
papers!" 

Mr.  Van  Dam  grew  thoughtful. 

"  It's  gone  hard  with  the  boy.  You  see  he's  af- 
flicted with  ideas  about  right  and  wrong.  I'm 
sending  him  abroad  for  a  couple  of  years." 

95 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Europe's  the  gin  mill." 

The  eyes  of  both  rested  on  Craig  a  minute.  He 
was  flushed  and  his  eyes  smouldered  as  he  talked. 

"  A  woman's  man!  "  Mr.  Van  Dam  commented. 

Then  the  two  older  men  sighed;  Craig  seemed  so 
vivid  an  embodiment  of  the  youth  no  longer  theirs. 

"  I  want  to  get  the  youngster  drunk  so  he'll  sleep," 
Mr.  Van  Dam  confided  to  Brittingham  later.  "  To- 
night's the  crisis.  Once  on  shipboard,  and  excite- 
ment will  effect  its  cure."  So  they  all  went  to 
Sherry's  for  a  bite  after  the  Show. 

As  Simpson  was  getting  Craig  to  bed  that  night, 
Mr.  Van  Dam  hovered  about. 

"  You'll  look  out  for  the  boy  over  there,  won't 
you,  Simpson?  "  he  asked. 

Then  he  went  over  to  the  bed  and  put  his  hand 
on  Craig's  hot  head.  He  had  a  sudden  vision  of 
doing  the  same  thing  years  before  as  Craig,  a  tiny 
boy,  had  tossed  in  the  fever  of  delirium.  He  had 
taken  him  in  his  arms  then.  But  now  Craig  was 
a  man  to  go  his  own  way,  lead  his  own  life.  He  saw 
as  in  a  vivid  panorama  the  brilliant  crowded  years 
that  stretched  ahead  for  him,  years  the  every  de- 
tail of  which  he  knew  thoroughly  for  he  was  painting 
Craig's  future  with  the  pigments  of  his  own  past. 

But  Simpson  was  saying  something.  He  pulled 
himself  together. 

"  I'm  half  drunk  myself,"  he  said,  and,  with  a 
slight  shiver,  went  into  his  own  room. 


Chapter  VI 

Henry  Van  Dam  had  miscalculated;  the  crisis  for 
Craig  was  only  intensified  by  being  postponed.  The 
morning  of  the  sailing  things  had  gone  with  a  rush. 
There  had  been  a  wire  from  his  mother,  her  good 
wishes  being  swamped  in  a  long  list  of  the  right 
people  with  whom  she  wished  him  to  become  iden- 
tified on  the  Continent. 

Then  Braintree  had  arrived.  The  hand  clasp 
was  an  affectionate  one. 

"You  know  —  about  things?"  Craig  had  fal- 
tered. He  didn't  want  to  take  unfair  advantage  of 
Braintree. 

Braintree  nodded. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  way  and 
proceeded  to  ask  after  Tony. 

They  reached  the  steamer  a  few  minutes  before 
sailing  time.  There  was  the  usual  crush  on  the 
decks,  a  confusion  of  voices,  a  shouting  from  the 
dock.  People  chattered  in  groups,  with  a  cursory 
glance  now  and  then  at  other  groups  and  a  vague 
speculation  as  to  "  Who's  on  board?  " 

Mr.  Van  Dam  was  quite  at  home.  He  hailed 
one  of  the  stewards  by  name,  recognized  a  deck 
hand,  found  his  way  unaided  to  the  suite  that  was  to 

97 


The  Sinister  Revel 

be  Craig's.  Then,  back  on  deck  again,  he  was  dis- 
covered as  the  centre  of  a  jolly  group.  The  Ander- 
son Prescotts  were  sailing,  too.  Jolly  for  Craig! 
But  Craig  hung  back.  Mr.  Van  Dam  disentangled 
himself  gracefully.  Next  he  bowed  low  to  a  charm- 
ing woman,  a  prominent  actress  Craig  knew  by  repu- 
tation. A  good-natured  exchange  with  a  camera 
man  who  insisted  on  "  a  snap  "  and  Mr.  Van  Dam 
was  back  at  the  gang  plank  ready  to  say  good-bye. 

He  had  purposely  made  everything  quite  casual,  as 
if  a  two  years'  trip  around  the  world  were  but  a 
trifling  incident,  not  to  be  reckoned  with  emotion- 
ally. 

"  If  there's  any  trouble  about  money,  go  to  Mor- 
gan Bleecker  in  Paris,"  he  said. 

They  shook  hands.  Craig's  strange  silence  and 
tense  hand-grip  were  a  little  disconcerting.  Mr. 
Van  Dam  felt  his  own  spirits  ebb  somewhat  as  a  re- 
sult. He  had  a  swift  desire  to  duck  everything  and 
go  with  the  boy  himself.  But  even  as  the  thought 
came  to  him  there  were  cries  of  "  All  ashore!  " 

Again  they  shook  hands.  "  Oh  —  er  —  by  the 
way.  If  you  decide  to  go  in  for  racing  at  all,  I'll 
send  over  your  horses  — " 

Mr.  Van  Dam  was  shaking  hands  with  Brain- 
tree  now.  An  official  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  jovially.  "  I'm  ready,"  and 
in  a  second  he  was  being  hustled  off  the  boat. 

The  rest  was  all  a  blur  to  Craig.  It  seemed  as 
if,  when  the  gangplank  was  drawn  up,  the  last  con- 


The  Sinister  Revel 

necting  link  with  the  old  life  had  been  severed.  He 
clung  blindly  to  the  rail,  waving  a  vague  farewell  at 
the  receding  dock. 

"  Next  stop,  Paris !  "  Braintree  had  said  by  way 
of  lightening  a  situation  that  threatened  to  become 
awkward. 

At  which  Craig  gave  him  the  oddest  look  and  dis- 
appeared below  stairs. 

It  was  a  wretched  trip,  stormy  and  dismal.  Craig 
was  a  bad  sailor;  the  sea  depressed  him  with  its 
perpetual  rise  and  fall,  its  sullen  treachery,  its  waste 
of  gloom.  He  shut  himself  away  from  it  always. 
But  before,  on  other  trips,  there  had  been  Tony, 
Lili,  plenty  to  amuse  him.  Now  he  had  only  Brain- 
tree,  who  didn't  seem  to  count  much,  and  his  own 
thoughts. 

He  stayed  in  bed  for  three  days  during  the  worst 
of  the  storm.  The  brandy  he  drank  continually 
stimulated  rather  than  deadened  his  brain.  So  in 
the  long  swaying  days  and  nights,  there  was  noth- 
ing for  it  but  to  give  himself  up  and  face  things 
squarely.  He  lived  the  tragedy  all  over  again, 
spared  not  a  detail.  The  image  of  Ann  May  was 
with  him,  not  Ann  May  as  he  had  known  her  in  the 
flush  of  her  little  triumphs,  but  Ann  May,  strapped 
to  a  bed,  white  and  suffering,  her  yellow  hair  fad- 
ing with  the  years.  He  had  thought  her  dead  dur- 
ing the  whole  black  length  of  that  night  in  the  jail. 
The  truth  had  brought  an  even  more  poignant  suf- 
fering; yet  he  recalled  the  indifference  of  his  tone  as, 

99 


The  Sinister  Revel 

on  his  way  to  the  train  next  morning,  he  had  ques- 
tioned Mr.  Potter  and  drawn  from  him  the  details. 

Then  there  constantly  confronted  him  another 
image,  the  image  of  himself.  And  always  the  back- 
ground was  the  same,  the  little  shabby  room  where 
he  and  Ann  May  had  had  their  fun.  The  slanting 
walls,  the  old  walnut  dresser  with  its  array  of  Ann 
May's  cheap  silver,  the  dilapidated  screen  confessing 
a  washstand  behind  it!  Oh,  he  knew  that  room 
thoroughly,  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  a  spring  after- 
noon, in  the  gloom  of  a  winter's  night.  He  could 
see  the  dawn,  as  he  had  come  to  see  it  so  frequently, 
struggling,  dirty  and  yellow,  through  the  dingy  panes 
of  the  little  window.  And  always  that  figure  of 
himself,  flushed,  in  disarray,  now  standing  before 
the  little  glass  with  his  collar  in  his  hand,  now 
quaffing  some  whiskey  from  an  old  cracked  mug. 

Little  incidents  floated  across  his  memory.  He 
had  wanted  to  give  Ann  May  a  present  but  had  hesi- 
tated. Then  one  day  she  had  asked  him  for  money. 
He  could  see  her  now,  her  upturned  face.  How 
stupid  he  had  been,  really!  Poor  Ann  May!  And 
how  cold  they  had  been  at  times !  But  it  hadn't  mat- 
tered. 

Then  there  was  the  crowd  again,  pushing,  jostling. 
He  could  hear  their  jeers  mingled  with  the  clang- 
clang  of  the  patrol  as  they  started  off.  Afterwards 
that  group  of  men  at  the  station !  He  remembered 
striking  out  wildly,  hitting  one  of  them  who  called 
him  an  evil  name.  Then  the  terror  of  the  black- 

IOO 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ness  as  they  shut  him  in  the  cell.  He  had  cried  out 
and  beaten  against  the  door.  After  that,  he  must 
have  lost  consciousness  for  there  was  a  blank.  Then 
towards  morning  the  pain  of  awakening,  followed 
again  by  the  indifference  of  mental  exhaustion. 

So  Craig  lived  through  the  tragedy  again  and 
again.  It  was  as  if  by  dwelling  on  the  details  he 
might  escape  the  vital  issue,  the  loss  of  Constance. 
The  sense  of  that  had  been  with  him  from  the  be- 
ginning, overwhelming,  irretrievable,  but  it  was  only 
by  slow  and  painful  degrees  he  could  adjust  him- 
self to  the  fact  in  definite  form,  its  bearing  on  his 
future.  Another  boy  would  have  found  a  ray  of 
light  in  possible  compromise.  But  as  for  Craig  — 
well,  as  his  father  had  said  —  his  the  affliction  of 
ideas  as  to  right  and  wrong.  So  he  lay  torturing 
himself  in  the  darkness,  facing  the  years  ahead  in 
blank  despair.  His  father's  words,  "  You  can 
marry  any  woman  you  like,"  had  slipped  away  from 
him.  Had  he  remembered  them  they  would  have 
brought  little  comfort,  only  wonder,  perhaps,  at 
the  ignorance  that  prompted  them. 

The  afternoon  of  the  last  day  out  Craig  decided 
to  get  up  and  go  on  deck.  The  cabin  seemed  heavy 
with  his  own  thoughts.  Besides,  he  was  tired  to 
death  of  Braintree  and  Simpson.  Their  carefully 
modulated  voices  as  they  tendered  sympathy  every 
hour  got  on  his  nerves. 

He  suffered  Simpson  to  get  him  into  some  steamer 
togs. 

101 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  People  have  been  asking  about  you,  Mr.  Craig," 
he  volunteered  as  he  surveyed  with  pride  his  handi- 
work. 

This  brought  Craig  a  flare  of  anger.  He  had 
that  very  morning  come  across  some  newspapers  ac- 
cidentally brought  on  board  and  had  been  confronted 
with  most  lurid  accounts  of  the  accident.  There 
were  pictures  of  himself,  pictures  of  The  Red  Devil, 
a  picture  of  Ann  May,  even  a  sketch  of  the  shabby 
boarding-house.  The  headlines  stared  at  him: 

"  Boy  millionaire  trapped  — " 

"  Young  Van  Dam  laughs  while  girl  — " 

It  was  humiliating.  It  was  disgusting.  How  he 
hated  newspapers,  anyway !  So  he  had  kicked  them 
out  of  sight  and  tried  to  forget. 

Simpson's  words,  however,  brought  back  the 
degradation  of  his  publicity.  So  people  were  ask- 
ing for  him,  wanted  to  get  a  look  at  him  as  if  he 
were  a  criminal.  Well  —  damn  it  all  —  he'd  fool 
them.  He'd  stay  in  his  rooms  till  the  boat  docked. 
He  took  off  his  hat  and  threw  it  violently  on  the 
floor.  The  bewildered  expression  on  Simpson's  face 
brought  him  unexpectedly  a  laugh  and  another  veer. 

"  I  don't  want  any  hat,"  he  said  and,  turning, 
stalked  out  of  the  room. 

"  Those  as  is  seasick  is  apt  to  be  erratic,"  mut- 
tered Simpson  as,  picking  up  the  discarded  hat,  he 
began  to  brush  it  with  melancholy  air. 

Craig  was  unquestionably  the  Cynosure  of  all  eyes. 
Mothers  had  long  since  begun  their  calculations; 
102 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  girls  were  ready  with  becoming  blushes  and 
gentle  arts.  But  Craig  stormed  by.  The  charming 
actress  bowed  invitingly;  Craig  pretended  not  to  see. 
A  group  of  ordinary  western  girls  made  comments 
out  loud  as  he  passed;  he  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  contempt  for  the  vulgarity  of  their  class. 

The  curiosity  he  aroused  but  confirmed  his  sus- 
picion that  he  was  being  looked  upon  as  of  the 
order  of  a  White  Chapel  murderer.  His  anger 
got  the  better  of  him  eventually  and  he  rushed  be- 
low, white  with  rage. 

Braintree  knew  enough  to  stay  on  deck,  so  Simp- 
son had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  storm.  His  solici- 
tations were  sincere  even  if  banal.  He  erred  in  that 
he  mistook  the  nature  of  Craig's  complaint. 

"  A  little  vinegar  on  the  back  of  your  neck,  sir." 
At  which  Craig,  driven  to  desperation,  burst  forth, 

"  Get  out,  damn  you !  Can't  you  see  I  want  to 
be  alone?" 

Whereat  Simpson  slunk  away,  as  a  dog  limps  off 
to  hide  his  hurt.  Craig  was  left  to  huddle  in  his 
chair,  and  pronounce  judgment  on  himself  for  his 
own  unreason. 

They  went  to  the  Savoy  in  London.  It  was  a 
rainy  week  and  every  one  was  out  of  town.  The 
Treshams  were  on  the  Continent,  the  Belgraves  in 
the  country.  So  it  went.  Craig  didn't  care  much 
one  way  or  the  other;  he  had  gone  through  certain 
formalities  for  his  mother's  sake,  that  was  all. 

He  and  Braintree  dined  about  at  the  restaurants. 

I03 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  liked  that,  because  Braintree  wasn't  of  a  pres- 
ence to  exact  conversation.  They  just  sat  and  drank 
and  looked  about.  It  was  odd,  however,  that  in 
spite  of  the  paucity  of  their  remarks  to  each  other, 
Craig  was  beginning  to  see  his  old  tutor  in  a  new 
light.  To  be  sure  he  was  the  same  lean  figure, 
wore  the  same  dun  clothes,  had  the  same  old  habit 
of  peering  over  the  top  of  his  spectacles.  But  there 
was  lacking  the  old  dignity  that  had  so  compelled 
Craig's  youthful  respect.  It  was  almost  as  if  Brain- 
tree  at  times  were  seeking  to  convey  a  sense  of  his 
own  moral  laxity.  He  hinted  at  past  indiscretions, 
showed  a  tendency  to  sneer  at  anything  even  dimly 
suggestive  of  moral  rectitude.  It  was  bewildering; 
Craig  had  to  admit  to  himself  he  didn't  exactly  fol- 
low. 

The  situation  when  he  did  grasp  it  served  to  dis- 
tract him  somewhat  from  his  gloom.  It  was  all  so 
ludicrous,  so  utterly,  absurdly  incongruous.  Brain- 
tree  had  started  out  with  the  idea  of  "  going  the 
pace,"  as  he  put  it  to  himself,  seeing  real  life  for 
once  and  getting  down  deep.  The  indisposition  of 
his  young  charge  to  stray  from  the  beaten  path  was 
filling  him  with  uneasiness.  He  had  expected  the 
primrose  path  of  dalliance ;  cosy,  intimate  little  sup- 
pers with  sirens  of  the  footlights.  He  had  expected 
—  but  what  does  it  matter?  Suffice  it  to  say,  Brain- 
tree  was  getting  restive  under  the  existing  condi- 
tions. 

Craig  got  the  thing  one  night  as  they  were  sit- 
104 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ting  in  a  restaurant,  dully  stupid.  It  brought  him  a 
quick  laugh.  Tony  had  said  once  a  lot  of  women 
were  good  because  they  never  had  a  chance  to  be 
bad.  Now  here  was  Braintree,  a  man,  likewise  pin- 
ing his  opportunity. 

Braintree  roused  himself  and  joined  in  the  laugh. 
Not  that  there  was  any  joke,  but  he  wanted  to  prove 
himself  amenable  to  jollity.  This  was  the  first 
gleam  the  trip  could  boast. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  really  drunk?  "  Craig  had 
asked  at  last  by  way  of  a  startler. 

Braintree  was  indignant. 

"  Many  a  time !  "  he  answered  and,  raising  his 
glass,  drained  it  as  if  to  the  dregs. 

"How  about  women?"  Craig  pursued.  Direct 
treatment  he  had  seen  Tony  apply  often  in  dealing 
with  the  unsophisticated ! 

"Oh,  I've  had  my  day!"  Braintree  articulated 
with  an  effort. 

"  I  say,  let's  go  to  Paris !  "  Craig  had  thrown  out 
and  then  roared  at  the  eagerness  that  lit  up  old 
Braintree's  eyes  at  the  suggestion. 

If  Braintree  had  never  been  drunk  before,  he  made 
up  for  the  lack  in  a  spree  that  night.  Craig  plied 
him  with  champagne  to  such  a  pitch  of  hilarity  that 
neither  would  have  reached  home  at  all,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  discretion  of  the  waiting  cabby. 

"  The  Professor,  too !  "  said  Simpson  with  the 
utmost  disdain,  as  he  threw  a  comforter  over  Brain- 
tree's  ungainly  length  as  it  sprawled  on  a  sofa. 

105 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Then  he  proceeded  with  a  tenderness  that  was  not 
without  its  element  of  the  maternal  to  undress  his 
young  master,  give  him  a  rubdown,  and  tuck  him  in 
with  care. 

"Poor  Mr.  Craig!"  he  muttered  and  removed 
the  whiskey  on  the  night-table  to  his  own  room  for 
safe-keeping. 

They  reached  Paris  the  next  afternoon.  It  had 
cleared  up,  and,  as  they  drove  through  the  busy 
streets,  Craig  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain  glow 
of  suppressed  excitement.  It  was  simply  that,  as 
now  there  was  no  fixed  goal  ahead,  the  future  par- 
took of  the  nature  of  a  giant  lottery,  and  the  gam- 
bling spirit,  instinct  always  in  youth,  stirred  to  the 
uncertainty  involved.  He  had  lost  Constance; 
henceforth  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  take  life 
at  a  canter  and  ride  down  all  regret.  It  was  for 
circumstance  to  point  the  goal. 

He  gave  Braintree  choice  of  hotels;  Braintree  ten- 
tatively suggested  the  Ritz,  so  the  Ritz  it  was. 

Circumstance  took  the  heavy  form  of  George 
Winters,  encountered  that  night  in  the  lounge  of  the 
hotel.  George  was  in  the  thrall  of  a  great  depres- 
sion. His  running  mate,  Fellows  Milburn,  had  just 
been  summoned  to  the  States. 

"  His  father's  passed  in  his  chips,"  he  had  ex- 
plained rather  thickly,  "  and  Fellows'  off  for  the 
funeral." 

"  Too  bad,"   Craig  had  murmured,   feeling  the 

106 


The  Sinister  Revel 

occasion  called  for  sympathy.  But  he  had  quite 
misread  the  situation. 

"  Too  damned  awkward !  "  George  had  corrected 
irritably.  "  We've  taken  a  house  together  for  the 
Deauville  races,  and  now  the  son  of  a  gun  has  gone 
out  from  under  me  — "  Then,  by  way  of  throw- 
ing off  a  disagreeable  topic  — "  I  say,  what  are  you 
doing  to-night?  How  about  dinner?  " 

Craig  assented  laconically. 

As  they  turned,  George  caught  sight  of  Brain- 
tree,  hovering  in  the  background  and  casting  proprie- 
tary glances  at  Craig. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot !  "  Craig  hesitated  a  minute,  catch- 
ing an  unmistakable  signal  from  the  same  direction. 

"Does  it  belong  to  you?"  George  asked  with 
a  grimace. 

Craig  nodded. 

"  Let's  lose  it,"  came  the  prompt  suggestion. 

"  Haven't  the  heart,"  Craig  answered.  "  It's 
seeing  life." 

At  which  they  both  laughed  loudly. 

"  By  God,  let's  take  it  to  Deauville !  "  George 
burst  out.  "  What  sport!  " 

Braintree  had  stood  it  as  long  as  he  could. 
George's  florid  face  and  loud  clothes  savoured  of 
high  adventure.  A  party  seemed  imminent;  he 
mustn't  be  left  out.  The  laugh  was  the  last  irri- 
tant. Plunging  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  he 
sauntered  up. 


107 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"How  about  —  er  —  a  drink?"  he  said,  and 
joined  heartily  in  the  merriment  that  greeted  his 
bold  suggestion. 

So  it  was  by  the  very  oddest  of  whimsies  George 
Winters  and  Craig  joined  forces  in  a  combination 
soon  to  become  the  scandal  of  two  continents. 
George  was  fifteen  years  older  than  Craig,  of  a 
seasoned  dissoluteness.  He  had  run  through  one 
fortune  and  was  playing  ducks  and  drakes  with  a 
second.  His  credit  already  needed  a  little  bolster- 
ing; Craig's  arrival  was  opportune.  It  was  for 
Braintree  to  be  the  stalking  horse. 

They  began  modestly  the  first  night  by  all  getting 
drunk  in  the  conventional  way.  The  second  after- 
noon George  took  a  promiscuous  party  from  the 
Hotel  out  to  Versailles  in  his  drag.  Dinner  was  in 
order  later.  George,  however,  apprehended  re- 
spectability in  their  midst;  the  party  acknowledged 
limitations. 

"  We're  letting  old  Brainy  in  by  degrees,"  George 
confided  to  Craig  later.  But,  in  reality,  it  was  Craig 
he  was  sounding  for  his  own  satisfaction.  The 
results  were  evidently  to  his  taste  for,  at  the  end 
of  a  week  of  nicely  graduated  dissipations,  he 
brought  about  neatly  the  suggestion  of  "  a  little 
place  —  some  half  dozen  girls  —  quite  the  best  sort 
—  patronized  by  the  Duke  de  Quelque  Chose,  etc." 

"  Madame  Georgette's  Saturday  night  dinner  par- 
ties are  the  smartest  things  in  Paris,"  he  wound  up. 
"  I'll  put  the  girls  on  to  make  sport  of  Braintree." 
108 


The  Sinister  Revel 

George  was  ready  for  Craig's  almost  impercepti- 
ble hesitation.  "  Will  he  stand  for  it  ?  "  George  asked. 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  steadily  for  a  full 
minute.  Then  Craig,  flushing  hotly,  turned  away. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he'll  stand  for  it  all  right,"  he  muttered, 
with  the  knowledge  that  he  was  being  called  on  in- 
directly to  declare  for  himself.  Direct  probing 
would  have  produced  less  that  sense  of  guilty  sur- 
render. 

Nothing  further  was  said.  The  night  of  the 
party  arrived.  Braintree  spent  hours  dressing;  the 
effect  was  shining  and  meticulous  if  not  convincing. 
Craig  vacillated  from  gloom  to  indifferent  accept- 
ance. A  preliminary  round  at  the  hotel  bar,  how- 
ever, wrought  to  an  almost  lively  anticipation  as  to 
what  the  evening  might  bring  forth. 

The  ladies  were  gathered  together  when  they  ar- 
rived, of  blonde  allure  for  the  most  part  with  here 
and  there  a  striking  brunette  by  way  of  contrast. 
They  were  grouped  prettily  about,  making  play  with 
a  magazine  here,  a  piece  of  music  there.  The  draw- 
ing-room represented  the  last  word  in  tasteful  mod- 
ernity, a  few  very  fine  paintings  on  the  wall. 

Madame  Georgette,  a  beautiful  woman  of  per- 
haps thirty-eight,  was  a  charming  hostess.  Her 
poise  and  grace  made  her  a  delight  to  watch.  Sev- 
eral men  had  already  arrived.  She  introduced  the 
new-comers  to  them  in  an  under-voice  as  a  thing  to 
get  over  quickly,  and  then  made  a  sweeping  gesture 
to  indicate  the  ladies. 

109 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  My  girls !  "  she  said  and  succeeded  quite  easily 
in  hitting  a  tender  maternal  note. 

A  few  more  arrivals  distracted  the  attention  and 
then  dinner  was  announced.  The  proprieties  were 
observed  strictly,  even  to  severity.  That  is,  at 
first.  The  general  talk  was  of  the  weather  till  the 
popping  of  the  first  champagne  cork  gave  the  signal 
for  a  greater  latitude.  The  hum  became  a  buzz. 
High  voices  began  to  penetrate,  guffaws  grew  un- 
restrained. One  or  two  ladies  flung  back  in  their 
chairs  and  laughed  themselves  to  tears.  The  cham- 
pagne corks  continued  a  steady  bombardment. 
Stories  began  to  circulate.  There  was  a  marked 
tendency  on  the  part  of  the  men  to  sag  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  fair  ones  given  temporarily  to  their 
keeping.  Some  of  the  men  went  so  far  as  to  stroke  a 
particularly  white  arm  or  place  a  well-aimed  kiss 
upon  a  provocative  shoulder.  This,  however,  only 
here  and  there,  doubtless  a  privilege  of  long-stand- 
ing intimacy. 

Madame  Georgette  did  most  of  the  open  talking, 
which  related  to  horses,  yachting,  opera,  sport  in 
general,  the  Deauville  races  in  particular. 

George  was  booking  bets,  the  Duke  running  him 
hard.  Craig  had  warmed  to  the  point  of  telling 
an  anecdote  or  two  and  was  rewarded  with  fair 
smiles. 

A  laugh  was  rippling  among  those  who  surrounded 
old  Braintree,  first  low,  then  of  resounding  peal. 
He  was  evidently  holding  his  own.  Later  he  was 

no 


The  Sinister  Revel 

caught  promising  his  fair  Loretta  a  pearl  necklace 
on  certain  conditions  which  he  whispered  into  her 
shell-pink  ear. 

Mirth  grew  more  and  more  unrestrained.  Only 
the  lady  Georgette  kept  her  dignity.  With  the 
coffee  there  came  a  lull,  but  sentimentality  and 
liqueurs  took  up  the  wondrous  tale  later  on.  There 
was  a  feint  at  dancing  in  a  gem  of  a  ball  room; 
one  or  two  couples  strayed  to  the  terrace.  Soft 
music  pervaded  the  atmosphere;  there  was  rumour 
of  a  moon  — 

Craig  found  himself  in  a  conservatory  making 
ardent  love  to  Georgette. 

"You  silly  boy!"  she  had  said,  looking  deep 
into  his  eyes  with  a  lingering  delirious  sparkle. 
Then  she  had  suffered  him  to  put  his  arm  about 
her.  It  was  not  so  different  from  the  old  love-mak- 
ing with  Ann  May,  only  enhanced  by  the  feeling  of 
a  brilliant  worldliness  that  flattered  him. 

"You  silly  boy!"  Georgette  had  repeated,  this 
time  more  softly. 

The  taunt  put  him  on  his  mettle.  Seizing  her  in 
his  arms,  he  covered  her  face  with  kisses.  It  was 
but  one  of  the  lady's  formulas,  one  proved  of  re- 
markable efficacy  in  dealings  with  the  young;  but 
how  was  Craig  to  know  that?  He  got  all  the  wild 
thrill  of  masterful  possession  as  he  felt  the  slender 
body  in  his  arms  yield  its  struggle  and  with  a  quiver 
of  submission  settle  to  his  embrace. 


ill 


Chapter  VII 


"  I  like  women  who  are  brave  enough  not  to  be 
hypocrites,"  Craig  had  dropped  casually  the  next 
day  by  way  of  letting  old  Braintree  out,  as  well  as 
himself.  He  talked  of  frank  sin  for  a  week  or  two 
and  felt  the  expression  redeemed  him.  Besides, 
there  was  nothing  to  offend  the  finest  sensibilities  in 
Georgette's  charming  place.  The  realization  came, 
however,  that  this  party  was  but  an  "  eye  opener" — 
to  use  George's  own  phrase;  a  realization  forced 
gradually  by  other  sprees  in  less  fashionable  quarters. 
Craig  took  doggedly  everything  that  came,  drinking 
himself  to  a  sodden  acceptance  of  the  worst  de- 
bauchery. It  was  simply  life,  that  was  all;  better 
take  it  at  a  dose  — 

In  the  end,  however,  had  come  the  old  sickening 
revulsion,  and  he  had  turned  definitely  away  from 
it  all,  welcoming  heartily  the  move  to  Deauville.  A 
clean  slate  there !  And  he  loved  racing! 

Cecil  Brenchley,  a  young  Englishman  and  member 
of  the  Cercle  de  Deauville,  took  some  half  dozen 
men  over  in  his  drag.  It  was  jolly  fun.  They  took 
two  days  at  it,  stopping  over  night  at  Evreux,  chang- 
ing horses  now  and  again.  An  English  venture 
in  a  French  setting! 

Deauville,  as  they  came  upon  it,  lay  warm  and 

112 


The  Sinister  Revel 

bright  in  the  afternoon  sun.  There  was  an  under- 
current of  excitement  in  the  air.  Horses  with  their 
attendant  jockeys  in  vivid  regalia  passed  up  and 
down  the  Rue  Edmond  Blanc.  Markers  hurried 
to  and  fro,  note-books  in  hand,  voluble  as  to  a  point 
in  a  passing  favourite,  or  with  ominous  headshake  at 
a  new  claimant  to  distinction.  La  plage  fleurie 
stretched  inviting  and  sociable.  Hundreds  of  peo- 
ple still  lounged  on  the  white  sands,  although  the 
bathing  hour  was  long  past.  Graceful  yachts  could 
be  seen  side  by  side  with  the  packet  boats,  in  the  Baie 
de  la  Seine.  The  hotels  and  the  Casino  wore  a 
festive  air. 

George  Winters  and  Cecil  Brenchley  were  well- 
known  figures  in  the  racing  world.  Their  progress 
through  town  was  a  triumphant  one.  Nothing 
would  do  but  they  must  stop  at  the  Casino  for  a 
look  around,  and  an  exchange  of  gossip  with  the 
manager.  Then  followed  a  trip  to  the  Hippo- 
drome; the  track  was  pronounced  in  capital  shape. 
Then  out  towards  Villers  to  George's  villa,  which 
proved  a  sumptuous  one  of  ample  accommodation. 
A  look  at  the  horses  before  dinner,  three  of  Craig's 
in  the  number !  They  had  arrived  only  a  couple  of 
days  before.  The  sight  of  the  familiar  grooms  and 
welcoming  neighs  of  the  animals  filled  Craig  with 
an  almost  childish  delight.  After  dinner  the  other 
men  went  to  the  Casino  for  a  little  play  but  Craig 
stayed  at  home.  After  another  trip  to  the  stables 
he  went  to  bed.  The  freshness  of  the  two  days' 

"3 


The  Sinister  Revel 

drive  had  brought  him  a  feeling  of  regeneration, 
and  he  had  a  condescending  smile  of  pity  for  old 
Braintree,  who  had  preferred  to  linger  in  Paris. 
His  last  thought  before  going  to  sleep  was  that  he 
hoped  the  women  who  were  to  join  them  later  would 
prove  a  decent  sort. 

The  women  arrived  in  force  on  the  first  of  August; 
the  races  began  the  second.  Craig  was  to  learn  that 
the  demi-mondaine  of  Paris  was  as  nothing  in  the 
line  of  original  sin  to  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  col- 
lected for  house  parties  during  the  racing  season  at 
Deauville. 

The  presiding  genius  of  George's  party  was  a 
Mrs.  Margrave,  a  woman  of  forty,  all  blondined 
hair  and  sumptuous  curves,  indecently  exposed. 
Vivie,  short  for  Viviandiere,  she  was  to  her  intimates. 
George  had  run  into  her  the  preceding  fall  at  Monte 
Carlo.  They  had  yachted  somewhere  after  that, 
George  wasn't  quite  sure  where. 

"  But  you'll  like  the  old  girl,"  he  had  said,  and 
they  did. 

Then  there  was  an  Egyptian  woman,  the  oddest 
creature,  who  displayed  psychic  tendencies  at  un- 
comfortable times.  Hari  Kari,  George  designated 
her,  for  she  had  tried  to  cut  some  one's  throat  one 
night  in  Cairo.  Fidette,  an  actress  from  the  Theatre 
Frangais,  as  unscrupulous  as  they're  made,  but  a 
dainty  rogue  withal;  the  sisters  Pom  Pom  from  the 
Folies,  and  the  party  was  complete.  They  all  knew 
114 


The  Sinister  Revel 

one  another,  for  Paris  is  the  world  melting-pot  of 
those  who  live  by  their  wits.  The  Duke  had  joined 
the  party  during  the  day;  also  Natty  Weyburn, 
George's  trainer,  a  social  outcast  in  the  ordinary  run, 
but  cock  o'  the  walk  in  racing  season. 

The  party  went  at  a  furious  pace  from  the  be- 
ginning, with  Vivie  setting  the  tempo.  An  easy 
community  existence  found  favour  generally,  the  pos- 
sible exception  being  Simpson,  who  never  could  work 
out  what  was  expected  of  him  and  when  and  where. 
The  situation  required  a  delicacy  of  treatment  he 
found  quite  taxing. 

Night  was  turned  into  day,  day  night.  People 
gambled  till  morning,  took  their  rest  at  the  oddest 
times,  in  the  oddest  places.  All  managed  to  round 
up  at  the  racing  hour,  however.  A  plunge  in  the 
breakers  was  found  efficacious  now  and  then  in 
sobering  some  one  up.  Fidette  adored  Tir  Aux 
Pigeons.  Vivie  promenaded  in  off  hours  the  grand 
corridor  of  the  Casino;  it  was  her  way  of  taking 
outdoor  exercise.  As  for  the  Egyptian  woman,  les 
Kiosques  du  Figaro  held  her  in  thrall. 

A  picnic  at  midnight  was  instituted  in  the  ruins  of 
the  £glise  de  Trousseauville. 

Natty  said  it  was  quite  the  thing,  everybody  did 
it;  so  our  party,  loath  to  miss  a  thrill,  selected  the 
darkest  night  and  camped  out.  All  went  well  till 
Vivie  saw  a  ghost,  a  slithery,  shivery  white  thing 
over  by  the  old  altar.  A  panic  ensued,  a  dash  back 


The  Sinister  Revel 

through  the  town  accompanied  by  shrieks  that  made 
night  hideous.  The  Duke  had  a  quiet  talk  with  the 
authorities  next  morning. 

Then  there  was  the  night  they  tried  Opera. 
"  Carmen  "  it  was  with  la  belle  Otero  in  the  lead. 
Their  box  was  a  sheltered  one;  they  slumbered 
peacefully  until  George  fell  out  of  his  seat  with  a 
deal  of  unnecessary  noise  and  disorganized  things. 

Yachting  offered  a  diversity  of  sport.  George's 
Kittiwake  came  around  from  Marseilles  and  Craig 
chartered  a  smaller  craft,  christened  The  Rowdy. 
Other  house  parties  of  the  same  cosmopolitan  tone 
merged  activities  with  theirs. 

Occasionally  one  encountered  a  woman  of  one's 
own  set  at  the  Casino  or  Hippodrome.  Craig  ran 
into  Mrs.  Anderson  Prescott.  The  slight  raise  of 
her  delicate  brows,  as  she  took  in  the  tone  of  his 
ladies  in  waiting,  indicated  amusement  rather  than 
criticism.  After  all,  something  of  the  sort  was  ex- 
pected of  a  man  in  the  racing  season.  And  there  is 
ever  a  certain  beauty  in  wholesale  democracy. 

The  Duke  got  into  a  row  at  the  gaming  table 
one  night  with  a  chap  who  winked  at  Vivie  across 
the  green;  they  came  to  blows  afterwards  in  the 
Terasse  Fleurie  but  the  management  interceded  be- 
fore anything  disastrous  happened.  Then  George 
had  an  ugly  spill  one  day  playing  polo.  He  was 
taken  off  the  field  for  dead. 

"  Dead,  or  dead  drunk?"  asked  Cecil  when  the 
116 


The  Sinister  Revel 

rumour  reached  him  at  the  track.  There  was  no 
excuse  for  such  flippancy.  However,  George  re- 
ported at  the  Casino  that  night. 

In  spite  of  little  incidents  of  this  sort,  our  party 
pricked  on  merrily.  The  races  gave  the  necessary 
outlet  for  high  spirits.  One  screamed  wildly,  what- 
ever the  issue;  the  measure  of  sportsmanship  being 
gauged  by  the  amount  of  noise  made. 

George  lost  systematically,  but,  as  Cecil  said: 

"  A  man  owes  it  to  himself  to  be  ruined  once  a 
season,  and  it  may  as  well  be  a  horse  as  a  woman." 

Craig  was  lucky,  taking  the  Prix  Florian  de  Ker- 
gorlay  with  his  Vixen  the  last  week.  The  forty 
thousand  francs  he  threw  into  Fidette's  lap ;  she  lost 
them  all  that  night  at  the  roulette  table.  Needless 
to  say,  Craig  covered.  Cecil  won  the  Prix  Morny 
the  next  day;  George  took  occasion  to  borrow  it  all 
within  the  hour. 

So  it  went.  They  were  a  dissolute  crowd,  but, 
brilliant  and  daring,  they  knew  how  to  have  their 
fun.  Craig  kept  himself  sufficiently  drunk  to  drown 
any  protest  that  threatened  to  disturb  the  even  course 
of  their  debauchery.  He  recognized  vaguely  there 
must  come  a  day  of  reckoning,  but  what  odds? 
Fight  it  off  indefinitely. 

For  two  years  Craig  identified  himself  with  the 
fastest  element  the  continent  flaunted.  There  were 
races,  races  everywhere, —  Ascot,  Longchamps, 
Vichy,  Baden  Baden.  There  was  a  season  on  the 

117 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Riviera;  a  run  in  the  Kittiwake  across  to  Egypt;  a 
spectacular  trip  up  the  Nile.  Then,  somewhere  east 
of  Suez ! 

Mr.  Van  Dam  made  a  hurried  trip  to  Paris;  Craig 
was  in  Yokohama  at  the  time.  Mrs.  Van  Dam  took 
the  baths  at  Carlsbad  one  winter;  that  was  the  winter 
Craig  spent  in  Java. 

Rumour  followed  him  everywhere.  It  spoke  of 
his  amours,  his  extravagance,  his  indifference.  It 
placed  him  as  the  lover  of  a  princess  of  the  blood; 
it  followed  him  across  the  Sahara  in  pursuit  of  a 
Bedouin  dancing  girl. 

His  career  was  a  vivid  one,  of  kaleidoscopic  bril- 
liance. 

"  Exactly  what  we  expected,"  pronounced  Society 
and  turned  its  attention  to  a  newer  scandal. 

"  It  will  blood  the  boy,"  reflected  Mr.  Van  Dam 
and  sent  on  fresh  credit  to  Craig's  banker. 

As  for  Tony  —  his  scrap  book  of  newspaper  clip- 
pings was  becoming  of  unwieldly  proportions. 

"  Craig  always  was  the  devil  for  luck!  "  he  com- 
mented and  sighed  deeply  with  a  full  sense  of  New 
Haven  limitations. 

At  Deauville,  two  years  after  his  initiation  into 
the  racing  world,  there  occurred  the  incident  which 
altered  the  whole  course  of  Craig's  existence. 
Otherwise,  the  waste  of  his  powers  might  have  gone 
on  indefinitely. 

There  had  been  a  desultory  correspondence  with 
118 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  people  at  home.  Cables  of  congratulation  on 
racing  victories  from  his  father;  holiday  and  birth- 
day wishes  from  his  mother;  a  couple  of  stiff  letters 
from  Braintree,  following  his  speedy  return  to 
America  that  first  summer;  and  then,  most  welcome 
of  all,  Tony's  scrawls.  Tony,  in  the  beginning, 
had  poured  out  his  young  exuberance  at  great  length, 
but  gradually  a  certain  shyness  took  possession  of 
him.  Perhaps  it  was  that  contrast  of  a  continental 
career  with  his  own  picayune  existence!  Perhaps 
the  decline  inevitable  to  all  correspondence ! 

At  any  rate,  Craig  was  left  singularly  without 
news  of  the  people  in  whom  he  had  once  been  so  in- 
terested. George  had  regaled  him  with  an  escapade 
of  Larry's  one  summer  —  an  affaire  with  a  chorus 
girl  who  had  beguiled  him  of  a  new  car  and  several 
thousand  dollars.  Craig  and  George  had  enjoyed 
the  thing  together;  it  seemed  so  in  the  nature  of 
child's  play.  Yet — Craig  and  Larry  were  of  an 
age. 

Tony  had  admitted  to  a  wane  of  affection  when 
it  came  to  Vera. 

"  No  figure !  "  he  commented.  Craig  had  smiled. 
The  same  old  Tony ! 

Lili  had  been  sent  to  school  in  New  York.  "  And 
the  first  person  she  ran  into  — "  Tony  went  on  to 
impart,  "  was  Mimi  Poitier,  who  asked  all  about 
you.  She's  been  in  a  convent  in  Paris  for  ten  years. 
I'm  going  to  a  dance  at  the  school  soon.  Not  that 

119 


The  Sinister  Revel 

I  care  about  it;  it  will  be  awfully  tame,  but  Lili 
wants  me.  I'm  running  down  to  New  York  a  lot 
week-ends  with  Carly  — " 

So  the  letters  rambled  on.  Craig  looked  in  vain 
for  a  mention  of  Constance.  Tony  made  none,  per- 
haps his  way  of  being  supremely  delicate.  Craig 
followed  the  newspapers  faithfully  at  first,  but  the 
Edgemeres  decried  publicity.  In  the  end  he  gave 
up  the  search.  "  It's  just  as  well,"  he  told  himself. 
The  thing  was  over;  news  of  her  would  but  irritate 
his  hurt.  As  it  was,  he  succeeded  pretty  well  in  for- 
getting. That  is,  when  he  was  drunk  and  he  was 
drunk  most  of  the  time. 

The  Deauville  season  this  year  threatened  to 
outdo  all  preceding  ones  in  extravagant  gaiety. 
Craig  had  his  own  villa,  brought  down  his  own 
crew.  The  women  were  a  new  lot  and  promised 
good  sport. 

George  Winters  was  coming  over  from  London 
and  arrived  after  dinner  the  first  night.  There  was 
a  batch  of  mail  awaiting  him.  A  hundred  bills  easily 
—  pink  and  lavender  epistles  from  every  quarter 
of  the  globe  —  a  note  from  Fellows  Milburn  still 
in  the  States  — 

George  tumbled  everything  else  on  the  floor  to 
the  end  of  perusing  this  last  with  comfort. 

"  Gad !  "  he  cried,  hardly  launched,  and  putting 
back  his  head  roared  lustily. 

"News?"  asked  Craig. 
120 


The  Sinister  Revel 

George  nodded.  "  Listen !  "  he  cried,  then  pro- 
ceeded in  a  thick  voice  to  read : 

"  Learn,  old  fire-eater,  that  I'm  on  the  verge  of 
taking  a  serious  step.  Matrimony,  by  God — " 

Several  men  gathered  about.  George  continued 
to  chuckle  as  he  reached  to  pour  out  another  pony 
of  brandy. 

"  The  little  Edgemere  filly  has  won  me  with 
her  heavenly  eyes  — " 

As  to  the  cause  of  the  rumpus  which  ensued  no 
one  in  the  room  could  give  a  guess.  Craig  had 
turned  dead  white  and  then  hurled  himself  in  a 
wild  fury  upon  George,  who,  taken  off  guard,  rolled 
over  like  a  ninepin.  The  two  grovelled  on  the 
floor  in  a  desperate  struggle.  Craig  smashed  out 
blindly.  The  men  rushed  to  separate  them. 

Then  in  a  second  Craig  was  on  his  feet  again. 
He  was  conscious  of  being  held,  his  arms  pinioned 
behind  his  back.  There  was  blood  on  his  shirt 
front.  He  looked  about.  Winters  was  stretched 
on  a  sofa;  some  one  was  undressing  him.  The 
servants  were  running  about  with  scared  faces. 

Craig's  fury  had  spent  itself.  He  shook  off  the 
men  who  were  holding  him,  and  went  over  to  the 
couch. 

"  Get  the  Doctor !  "  he  ordered,  and  his  voice 
showed  him  complete  master  of  himself.  "  Send 
Simpson,  and  the  rest  of  you  clear  out." 

He  took  a  basin  of  water  from  one  of  the  trem- 

121 


The  Sinister  Revel 

bling  footmen  and  proceeded  to  wash  the  blood 
from  George's  face. 

Simpson  came  in.  There  were  no  questions 
asked,  no  explanations  given. 

"  Let's  get  him  to  bed,"  Craig  directed,  and  they 
carried  the  heavy  body  between  them  up  the  stairs. 

"  Just  a  little  shake-up !  "  the  Doctor  pronounced 
later  and  seemed  not  at  all  alarmed.  Maladies  of 
this  sort  were  prevalent  in  Deauville. 

George  in  his  recovered  consciousness  was  not  at 
all  sure  of  what  had  happened.  That  some  one 
had  been  beaten  up  he  remembered;  that  he  him- 
self was  that  some  one  he  suspected  from  a  certain 
tendency  to  ache  all  over.  But  as  to  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  the  scrape, —  well,  it  didn't  matter 
anyway.  And  there  were  Craig  and  Simpson  fuss- 
ing about.  Craig  was  talking  to  him.  He  focussed 
his  attention  with  difficulty.  Craig  was  explaining 
that  he  was  going  away.  "  But  why  the  Hell  — " 
George  couldn't  see  it.  "With  the  races  just  onl 
The  house  —  The  women  — " 

He  did  get  it  eventually,  however.  The  house 
was  to  be  his  while  Craig  was  away.  The  horses  — 

"  And  the  women,  too !  "  Craig  wound  up  grimly. 

George's  gratitude  threatened  to  become  maudlin. 

"  But  you'll  be  back?  "  he  whimpered. 

"  In  a  few  days!  "  Craig  assured  him,  at  which 
George,  with  still  a  befuddled  wonder  at  his  young 
host's  perversity,  suffered  himself  to  be  turned  over 
with  a  groan  and  then  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

122 


The  Sinister  Revel 

That  night  Craig  left  Deauville  for  good.  He 
and  Simpson  went  on  board  the  Rowdy  at  midnight, 
making  Havre  in  a  few  hours.  The  next  morning 
at  eight  they  sailed  for  New  York. 


123 


Chapter  VIII 


It  was  August,  a  perfect  time  for  a  voyage,  deep 
blue  above,  and  a  deeper  blue  below.  There  seemed 
no  palpable  movement  of  the  steamer.  Craig 
would  have  preferred  a  storm  to  the  monotonous 
placidity.  He  had  tramped  the  decks  violently  the 
first  morning,  and  then  shut  himself  away  from  the 
bright  calm  that  seemed  such  a  mockery  of  his 
nerves. 

He  drank  nothing.  His  brain  cleared  slowly, 
painfully;  the  time  of  accounting  had  come.  As 
Craig  faced  squarely  his  excesses  of  the  last  two 
years  they  seemed  the  more  revolting  as  he  failed 
to  take  into  account  the  nice  graduation  of  his  de- 
pravity. Evil,  full  blown,  is  an  ugly  thing;  only 
those  who  have  tended  its  growth  can  have  any  toler- 
ance of  it.  Craig  forgot  his  months  of  apprentice- 
ship; so  he  could  find  in  his  heart  nothing  but  dis- 
gust for  his  dissipations.  He  would  sit  for  hours 
and  hours,  still  and  white,  horrified  at  the  stretch  of 
uselessly  squandered  time,  forgotten  feelings,  wasted 
powers.  Colourless  fragments  of  memory  flitted 
across  his  vision, —  a  woman's  face,  a  woman's  lips, 
a  drunken  brawl,  an  evil  story. 

A  drink,  and  he  could  shut  it  all  out !  He  poured 
out  a  glass  of  whiskey  and  then  threw  it  on  the 
124 


The  Sinister  Revel 

floor,  glass  and  all.  The  crash  set  his  nerves  jang- 
ling; he  was  all  unstrung.  But  he  must  keep  sober. 
He  was  going  back  to  save  Constance.  How?  He 
did  not  know.  Tell  her  the  truth,  perhaps,  about 
Milburn,  about  himself,  about  the  whole  damned 
world  at  large  with  all  its  senseless  depravity.  But 
if  she  would  not  listen?  What  then? 

He  closed  his  eyes  to  steady  his  brain.  And  as.  he 
did  so,  she  seemed  to  stand  before  him,  calm  and 
placid,  her  beautiful  eyes  steady  in  his. 

"The  Edgemere  filly!  "  He  started  up  at  that 
and  clenched  his  fists  — 

The  seven  days'  trip  verged  almost  to  a  delirium 
for  Craig.  It  was  only  to  be  expected,  of  course, 
the  natural  outcome  of  a  heavy  dissipation  curbed  up 
short.  Had  it  not  been  for  Simpson's  care,  it  is  a 
question  if  he  could  have  pulled  himself  together  at 
all.  As  it  was,  the  last  day  out  found  him  white 
and  shaky  but  otherwise  quite  composed.  As  he 
watched  the  familiar  landmarks  come  to  view  one 
after  another,  he  could  not  help  smiling  a  little  at 
the  image  of  the  miserable  boy  who  had  watched 
those  same  landmarks  fade  away  just  two  years  be- 
fore. Only  two  years!  And  he  had  condemned 
himself  then  as  a  finished  libertine! 

He  was  feeling  a  little  calmer  now.  The  thought 
that  he  would  soon  see  Constance  again  brought  him 
a  certain  rest,  a  momentary  forgetfulness  that  his 
errand  was  an  ugly  one.  He  smiled  happily  to  him- 
self. 

125 


The  Sinister  Revel 

A  man,  leaning  on  the  rail  at  his  side,  took  cour- 
age. 

"Jolly  day!  "  he  ventured. 

"Beautiful!"  answered  Craig  with  enthusiasm 
and  offered  him  a  cigarette. 

The  two  walked  the  deck  for  an  hour  after  that 
in  easy  converse. 

"  We're  docking  tonight?  "  Craig  asked,  running 
across  the  Captain. 

But  the  Captain  shook  his  head. 

"  They're  holding  us  up  over  night.  There  was 
a  death  in  the  steerage  —  a  beastly  lot  of  quarantine 
stuff  to  go  through  — " 

Craig's  spirits  drooped. 

"  Let's  go  and  have  a  drink!  "  his  new  friend  in- 
tercepted. 

Force  of  habit  is  ever  stronger  than  conscious  will. 
Craig  found  himself  at  the  bar  before  he  realized 
what  he  was  doing.  But,  after  all,  one  drink !  So 
he  tossed  off  some  whiskey,  his  first  since  he  left 
Deauville.  It  produced  a  nice  exhilaration.  Eti- 
quette demanded  that  he  stand  for  the  next  round. 
He  did.  His  friend  responded  in  kind. 

It  fell  to  Simpson's  lot  to  interrupt  the  jovial  ex- 
change about  midnight  and  to  carry  his  young  master 
off  to  bed. 

Craig  raved  through  the  night  hours  that  dragged 
themselves  out  to  a  sickly  yellow  dawn.  He  railed 
and  stormed,  and  Simpson  caught  ever  and  again 
126 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  name  of  Fellows  Milburn.  Once  he  muttered  — 
"  Matrimony,  by  God!  "  and  then  cried  out,  cursing. 

Simpson  hurried  to  put  a  fresh  ice  bag  on  his  head 
but  he  would  have  none  of  it.  H*e  struck  out  wildly 
and  crashed  over  the  night-table. 

"What  is  it?"  he  said,  and  sitting  up,  startled, 
peered  through  the  blackness. 

"  Only  the  night-table,"  murmured  Simpson,  as 
he  struck  a  light. 

Craig  gave  a  strange  laugh.  "  I  thought  it  was 
Milburn,"  he  said  thickly. 

Simpson  shook  his  head  sadly  as  he  mixed  some- 
thing in  a  glass.  "  Here,  take  this !  "  he  said.  And 
lifting  Craig's  head  he  poured  some  chloral  down  his 
throat. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  tiptoed  to  his  own  room. 

The  morning  began  inauspiciously  with  a  drizzle. 
Craig  felt  miserably  sick;  strangely  forlorn,  too,  as 
he  balanced  on  the  step  of  a  taxi  and  tried  to  decide 
where  to  go.  Simpson  had  just  reminded  him  his 
people  would  be  in  Newport,  the  town  house  closed. 

"  Union  Club !  "  he  said  at  last  sullenly. 

Simpson  got  in  with  him  on  his  own  initiative. 
They  drove  up  town  through  streets  that  had  never 
seemed  dirtier.  Even  Fifth  Avenue  presented  a  be- 
draggled front.  Craig  was  trying  desperately  to 
focus  his  thoughts.  Simpson  kept  clearing  his  throat 
preliminary  to  various  sallies  that  died  in  utterance. 

127 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Outside  the  Club,  with  one  of  those  flash  deci- 
sions to  penetrate  the  gloom  of  his  uncertainty,  Craig 
turned  to  Simpson. 

"  There's  some  one  I  have  to  see.  You  fix  things 
up  here  — " 

Simpson  was  almost  pathetic  in  his  vacillation. 

"  But — "  he  began;  then  as  he  saw  Craig's  eyes 
narrow  his  protest  failed.  He  hastened  to  get  out, 
nervously  officious  as  to  baggage. 

"  Knickerbocker  Club!  "  directed  Craig,  and  gave 
a  short  laugh  at  the  dismay  that  swept  Simpson's 
countenance  as  he  heard  the  order.  The  apprehen- 
sion written  on  the  old  man's  face  as  he  had  stood 
there  on  the  curb  was  not  without  its  effect,  however; 
hardly  had  the  cab  started  off  before  Craig  changed 
his  mind  again. 

" 72nd  Street,  East,"  he  almost  shouted  this 

time  and  sank  back  in  the  corner  in  a  violent  agita- 
tion. With  that  second's  reading  of  Simpson's  fear 
had  come  the  realization  that  before  he  settled  with 
Milburn  he  must  see  Constance.  By  every  social 
law  the  Edgemeres  would  have  been  in  Newport 
at  this  season  of  the  year;  but  when  did  law  ever 
weigh  against  those  deep  unanalysable  instincts  that 
furnish  us  direction  in  times  of  great  crises?  Craig 
knew  that  Constance  was  in  town  and  he  knew  that 
he  would  see  her. 

The  cab  drew  up  at  the  curb.     Craig  could  hardly 
get  out  he  was  trembling  so. 
128 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Mrs.  Edgemere  has  gone  out,"  said  the  butler 
who  answered  the  door. 

"  Miss  Edgemere,  then."  Craig  articulated  the 
words  with  difficulty.  The  man  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously. 

He  waited  in  the  familiar  drawing-room,  walking 
up  and  down.  A  glass  gave  back  his  image;  he 
stopped  in  front  of  it,  suddenly  apprehensive  of 
the  havoc  his  dissipations  might  have  worked.  He 
had  changed  very  little  in  reality,  as  boyishly  fresh 
and  slim  as  ever;  but  as  he  studied  himself,  the 
flushed  face  and  burning  eyes  seemed  unmistakable 
to  him  as  indications  of  past  excess.  Again  that 
flood  of  emotion,  that  sweep  of  degrading  recollec- 
tion! 

As  he  stood  there,  she  came  in,  a  Constance  of 
fuller  beauty,  of  deeper  calm.  Nothing  was  said; 
they  simply  looked  at  each  other  across  the  room, 
a  long  inexpressibly  wonderful  look  of  quiet  and 
understanding.  Then  Craig  felt  suddenly  some- 
thing give  way  within  him.  He  was  conscious  of 
stumbling  to  her,  seizing  her  hands  roughly,  almost 
brutally,  as  he  dragged  her  down  beside  him  on  the 
divan,  pouring  out  wildly,  incoherently  his  sins,  his 
hopes,  his  despairs,  his  love. 

"  I'm  bad !  I'm  bad !  "  he  reiterated,  holding  her 
hands  as  in  a  vise.  The  ugly  facts !  He  must  con- 
vey them,  break  through  the  faith  he  still  read  in  her 
dear  eyes.  The  words  came,  crass  —  sordid. 

129 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"I  am  evil.  You  understand?  Evil  — 
streaked.  I've  led  a  terrible  life  —  drink  and 
women,  the  worst  kind  —  Oh,  do  you  see?  Can 
you  see? — " 

She  sat  white  and  still  as  she  listened.  His  words 
came  with  a  rush.  Then  suddenly  his  chaotic  vio- 
lence fell,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands  he  be- 
gan to  weep.  She  said  nothing,  but  rising  quietly 
went  to  the  window.  Then  Craig  realized  he  had 
hurt  her,  perhaps;  grossly  outraged  her  innocence. 
He  had  stumbled  to  his  feet.  Her  back  was  to  him 
but  he  was  vaguely  conscious  that  she  was  pressing 
a  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  cried.  "  I  am  so  wretched, 
so  miserable.  I  have  told  you  all  this  —  God  knows 
—  just  because  I  love  you  — " 

His  voice  broke  harshly.  Constance  turned  sud- 
denly and  faced  him.  He  saw  her  through  his  tears 
a  luminous,  slender  figure,  a  great  trust,  a  great  love 
shining  through  the  translucent  quiet  of  her  eyes. 
She  stood  there,  a  radiant  manifestation  of  pure 
love,  glorified  by  its  power  to  raise  up  and  forgive. 
As  Craig  looked  at  her,  all  the  evil  and  passion  and 
tragedy  that  had  been  pressing  so  closely  about  him 
seemed  to  fade  to  indistinctness  till  they  were  lost, 
the  darkling  disorders  of  another  world. 

He  put  out  his  hand  blindly  as  one  whose  dimmed 
vision  is  too  quickly  flooded  with  light. 

Constance  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"My  dear  one!"  she  said  softly.  "My  dear 
130 


The  Sinister  Revel 

one !  "  Then  leading  him  again  to  the  divan  she 
drew  him  down  beside  her  and  soothed  and  quieted 
him  as  a  mother  does  a  wayward  child. 


Part  III 


Chapter  IX 

Craig's  reactions  were  as  little  to  be  accounted 
for  as  a  child's,  yet  his  responses  were  simple.  His 
gloom  was  an  irrelevant  thing,  casual,  careless,  as 
liable  to  be  penetrated  by  some  ridiculously  unim- 
portant thing  as  by  a  big  thing.  So  with  his  joys. 
A  chance  word,  a  wisp  of  cloud  in  the  sky,  a  badly 
adjusted  saddle  on  his  horse,  and  his  feeling  of  con- 
tented well-being  would  turn  to  irritable  unrest.  It 
was  for  the  influence  of  Constance  to  bring  him, 
for  a  while  at  least,  to  a  greater  stability  of  mood, 
to  the  recognition  of  a  nicer  balance  between  cause 
and  effect. 

He  had  left  her  that  morning,  deeming  himself 
quite  the  happiest  man  in  the  world,  for  with  the  dis- 
pelling of  his  gloom  there  was  wrought,  also,  an 
eradication  of  his  sense  of  guilt.  This  was  due  in 
part  to  the  fine  quality  of  Constance's  forgiveness; 
in  part  also  to  Craig's  own  innocent  naivete.  So 
little  evil  was  he  by  nature,  so  really  unformed  in 
character,  that  excesses,  ordinarily  indelible  of  im- 
pression, passed  him  by  without  leaving  a  trace.  It 
is,  after  all,  inherent  evil  that  is  the  recording  finger 
of  sin. 

As  he  drove  back  to  his  Club  after  the  interview 
with  Constance,  Craig  was  at  heart  the  same  un- 

'35 


The  Sinister  Revel 

sullied  boy  who  had  rushed  home  in  an  ecstasy  of 
joy  four  years  before  when  Constance  had  admitted 
for  a  fluttering  second  that  she  did  care.  There 
was  the  same  strange  incredulity  and  wonder  that 
such  a  happiness  could  be  his,  the  same  fine  appre- 
ciation of  love  as  a  pure  experience,  the  same 
trembling  response  to  the  beauty  and  mystery  of  it. 
It  was  all  a  glorious  reality  and  yet  not  a  reality,  for 
it  was  too  big  a  thing  to  be  brought  within  the  range 
of  finite  understanding.  Craig  could  only  close  his 
eyes  as  to  the  strange,  relentless  beat  of  wings  upon 
his  consciousness. 

He  dismissed  his  cab  after  they  had  gone  a  block 
or  two  and  turned  into  the  Park.  The  rain  had 
cleared;  the  green  freshness  seemed  all  a  part  of  the 
cool  of  his  happiness.  He  wandered  to  a  remote 
corner  and  threw  himself  down  under  a  tree.  There 
was  a  little  artificial  lake  to  the  left,  very  bright  and 
sky-like.  He  remembered  skating  there  as  a  young- 
ster. The  heavens,  through  the  leafy  branches, 
seemed  far  away,  remote  but  no  longer  indifferent. 
A  few  wisps  of  cloud  floated  across  the  open  and 
then  were  gone.  The  ground  about  him  was  freaked 
with  sunshine  and  shadow.  His  hand,  too !  He 
moved  it  as  a  child  might  have,  with  amusement  at 
the  changing  patterns.  And  all  the  while  that  beat 
of  his  happiness,  silent  but  of  resistless  power!  %ti 
a  little  while  his  eyes  closed  and  he  slept. 

It  wasn't  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  he 
awoke.  His  sleep  had  been  the  sleep  of  utter  brain 

136 


The  Sinister  Revel 

exhaustion;  his  awakening  was  a  quiet  one,  the  nat- 
ural termination  of  a  rest  that  had  worked  itself  out 
to  completion.  He  opened  his  eyes  with  no  surprise 
at  his  surroundings;  perhaps  he  had  never  lost  the 
sense  of  them.  There  was  a  fluttering  movement 
in  the  bushes  near  him.  He  looked  in  that  direc- 
tion. Two  tiny  tots  were  peering  out  at  him  with 
round  curious  eyes.  They  had  discovered  him  in 
his  sleep  and  were  noiselessly  covering  him  with 
leaves.  He  laughed  as  he  sat  up,  and  shook  him- 
self free  of  his  vernal  covering.  The  children  dis- 
appeared with  an  answering  peal  of  laughter.  All 
as  it  should  be,  that  he  should  wake  to  that  glimpse 
of  the  naive  child  world  which  represented  life  at  its 
freshest  and  best.  He  mused  on  the  old  dancing 
school  days  that  seemed  now  not  so  far  away. 
Constance  in  her  white  party  dresses!  Constance 
with  her  clear  eyes !  Constance,  now  his  Constance  ! 

Then  suddenly  came  the  realization  that  he  was 
wasting  time.  There  was  much  to  do,  problems  to 
meet.  He  had  slipped  away  without  seeing  Mrs. 
Edgemere.  Constance's  suggestion !  They  were 
on  their  way  to  Lenox. 

"Wait  till  we  get  back  to  Newport!"  she  had 
said.  He  understood  now;  as  he  had  been  then 
he  would  have  cut  a  sorry  figure  in  Mrs.  Edge- 
r"°re's  critical  eyes.  He  smiled  tenderly.  That 
had  been  Constance's  kind  way;  she  wanted  to  give 
him  the  advantage  of  appearing  at  his  best  in  her 
mother's  eyes. 

137 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  looked  down  at  himself.  He  was  a  wreck. 
What  time  was  it?  Four  o'clock!  Simpson  would 
be  fussing.  Simpson  —  Then  his  face  brightened. 
He  would  tell  Simpson.  He  got  to  his  feet  quickly. 
The  one  thing  necessary  to  complete  his  happiness 
seemed  now  to  communicate  it  to  some  one  else. 
And  old  Simpson !  The  very  one !  He  hurried  out 
of  the  Park,  smiling  blandly  to  himself  in  anticipation 
of  the  coming  scene. 

"  Union  Club !  "  he  shouted  at  the  first  cabby  that 
chanced  along,  and  then  settled  back  in  his  corner 
humming  a  vigorous  tune. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  walked  into  his  room  at 
the  Club.  Simpson  had  had  a  nervous  day  of  it. 
The  more  he  tried  to  think  out  this  sudden  move 
back  to  the  States,  the  surer  he  became  there  was 
ugly  business  on  hand.  The  call  of  the  extras  out- 
side made  him  panicky;  he  was  obliged  ever  and 
again  to  fortify  himself  alcoholically  by  way  of  keep- 
ing his  nerve  "  in  case  something  h'awful  did  'appen." 
Mr.  Craig's  temper  was  up;  his  strange  threat  of 
Milburn  had  been  more  than  just  the  night's  delirium. 
Yes,  Simpson  was  decidedly  uneasy.  That  men  of 
Craig's  position  were  exempt  from  ordinary  law 
and  convention  he  knew  perfectly.  Law  and  con- 
vention were,  of  course,  quite  outside  a  gentleman's 
game.  But  still,  as  he  kept  saying  to  himself, 
"  a  row's  a  row,"  and  he  didn't  like  the  look 
of  it. 

•38 


The  Sinister  Revel 

The  hours  dragged  on.  Simpson  had  telegraphed 
on  his  own  responsibility  to  Newport,  announcing 
Craig's  arrival. 

"  If  only  we  could  get  the  governor  here !  "  he 
reflected,  and  began  to  calculate,  but  soon  lost  him- 
self in  the  mazes  of  a  New  York,  New  Haven  and 
Hartford  time-table.  Then  there  was  the  yacht, 
another  bewildering  possibility,  even  to  one  as  versed 
in  yachting  lore  as  Simpson.  For  there  was  always 
so  much  to  take  into  account  about  winds  and  tides. 
He  gave  it  up  eventually  and  dozed  a  little. 

Craig's  arrival  brought  him  out  of  his  slumber 
with  a  start. 

"  Something's  happened !  "  Craig  cried  and  seiz- 
ing both  the  old  man's  hands  whirled  him  about  till 
he  was  dizzy. 

Simpson  brightened  as  much  as  he  could  with  his 
head  going  around.  One  look  at  Craig's  face  had 
been  sufficient  to  dispel  all  idea  of  disaster.  But 
he  might  have  known;  Mr.  Craig  was  a  weather- 
cock for  moods  — 

"  There,  there !  "  he  said  and  leaned  against  the 
wall  to  steady  himself.  "  Now  tell  us  what  'as 
'appened!" 

Craig  laughed  gleefully. 

u  I  say,  Simpy,  what  do  you  say  to  our  getting 
married?  " 

Simpson  saw  light  at  last.  He  grabbed  Craig's 
hand  and  shook  it  violently,  then  turned  away  to 

139 


The  Sinister  Revel 

blow  his  nose.  There  was  a  suspicious  moisture  in 
his  eyes  as  he  tried  to  articulate  the  proper  congrat- 
ulations. 

11  The  last  wedding  I  did,"  he  managed  to  make 
out  at  last,  "  was  your  father's." 

Craig  stared  a  second,  then  laughed  loudly. 

"  So  Father  had  a  wedding,  too!  'Gad!  I  never 
thought  of  that!"  A  remark,  not  at  all  clever, 
but  he  and  Simpson  proceeded  to  get  quite  uproari- 
ous about  it. 

"  But  you  don't  know  who  — "  Craig  began  at 
last. 

Simpson  nodded  sagely.  "Wait!  "  he  said,  and 
made  a  rather  wambling  way  into  the  next  room. 

A  minute  later  he  came  back  with  the  old  picture 
of  Constance  that  had  stood  on  Craig's  desk  at 
College. 

Craig  pounced  upon  it.  "  But  why?"  he  expos- 
tulated. "  I  thought  it  had  been  left  behind.  If 
I  had  known  —  all  this  time  —  these  years  — " 

For  a  second  he  felt  a  faint  stir  within  him  — 
Those  years! 

He  turned  away  quickly.  "  But  it  was  just  as 
well  — " 

Simpson  was  explaining,  "  I  thought  as  it  would 
make  you  'omesick  — "  At  which  Craig  patted 
him  in  commendation.  All  the  while  he  had  the 
picture,  perusing  each  line  of  the  dear  face. 

"  You  can't  know  how  happy  I  am,  Simpson !  " 
he  broke  out  at  last. 
140 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Simpson  sighed.  "Your  father — "  he  said  re- 
flectively. "  'E  was  that  'appy,  too!  " 

"Was  he?"  said  Craig  vaguely,  but  he  wasn't 
listening. 

"  'Ave  some  tea,  sir?  "  Simpson  suggested  a  little 
later. 

"  No,"  answered  Craig.  "  That  is,  yes.  Oh,  I 
don't  care !  " 

The  telephone  rang. 

"  Your  father's  'ere,  sir !  "  announced  Simpson, 
and  there  was  a  secret  satisfaction  in  his  tone  as  of 
one  who,  if  pressed,  could  tell  much  as  to  the  ar- 
ranging of  dramatic  climaxes. 

A  minute  later  Craig  and  his  father  were  shaking 
hands  with  a  grip  that  left  nothing  untold  of  hearti- 
ness and  good  will.  Mr.  Van  Dam  had  felt  an 
unmistakable  alarm  on  getting  Simpson's  wire. 
Craig's  unheralded  return  argued  trouble  of  one  sort 
or  another.  One  glance  at  his  son,  however,  and 
all  apprehension  left  him.  The  boy  looked  younger 
than  ever,  in  the  best  of  health  and  top  spirits. 

Craig  fairly  glowed  as  his  father  kept  repeating, 
"  But  what  a  jolly  surprise!  What  a  lark!  You 
can't  know  how  glad  I  am!  "  There  was  a  warmth 
about  it  all,  a  genuineness  in  his  father's  pleasure  at 
seeing  him  again  that  made  what  Craig  had  to  tell 
fairly  easy  in  the  telling. 

They  sat  and  talked  and  talked  over  their  tea, 
while  Simpson  with  benign  countenance  tended  their 
wants. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  'Ow  about  a  little  rum,  sir?  "  he  would  murmur, 
poised  at  Mr.  Van  Dam's  ear  in  the  attitude  of  an 
angel  of  the  annunciation. 

Or  "A  bit  of  a  bun,  sir?"  when  Craig  showed 
himself  indifferent  to  the  sweets. 

It  all  helped  immensely;  it  had  ever  been  Simp- 
son's art  to  create  atmosphere.  The  old  awkward- 
ness Craig  had  felt  in  his  father's  presence  disap- 
peared entirely;  in  its  place  was  a  feeling  of  friendly 
security,  a  sympathetic  understanding  as  of  man  to 
man. 

It  was  all  a  part  of  their  new-found  intimacy  that 
they  should  decide  for  a  trip  back  that  night  on  the 
Idler.  Dinner  on  deck,  a  chat  later  in  the  moon- 
light that  provoked  revelation  and  low-voiced 
confidences!  Those  confidences  held  for  Craig, 
however,  no  semblance  of  reality;  so  imbued  was  he 
with  the  graceful  charm  of  the  night  the  poignancy  of 
their  message  quite  escaped  him.  Years  later, 
words,  phrases,  his  own,  his  father's,  would  drift  to 
him,  fraught  with  the  deepest  significance. 

They  had  talked  of  women;  Mr.  Van  Dam  had 
spoken  of  himself  as  an  idealist. 

"  Your  mother,"  he  had  said,  "  she  has  been  the 
one  woman  in  my  life,  really.  And  yet  —  only  a 
vague  beautiful  presence. — 

"  But  Constance  is  different,"  he  had  gone  on. 
"  I  have  watched  her  closely.  She  is  more  than  a 
lovely  illusion.  She  is  a  woman,  a  real  woman  with 
a  clear  vision.  As  long  as  she  keeps  that  vision  — " 
142 


The  Sinister  Revel 

A  clear  vision !  How  intensely  Craig  was  to  re- 
member that  afterwards!  And  yet,  at  the  time, 
the  words  had  meant  little.  They  had  been  spoken, 
only  to  be  lost  in  the  silvery  moonlight. 

"  As  long  as  she  keeps  her  vision,  you  cannot  go 
wrong!  " 

But  Craig's  attention  was  wandering.  He  had 
closed  his  eyes.  A  few  minutes  later  his  father, 
thinking  him  asleep,  had  thrown  a  steamer  rug  over 
him  and  gone  below.  Craig  was  left  alone  to  the 
sensuous  spell  of  the  glorious  night.  Again  that 
beat  of  his  happiness,  silent,  steady  .  .  . 


143 


Chapter  X 


They  found  breakfast  and  the  family  awaiting 
them  the  next  morning  on  the  terrace  overlooking 
the  ocean.  Just  the  right  note  of  welcome  was 
struck.  Everything  was  jolly  and  comfortable,  yet 
casual.  No  one  thought  of  taking  the  occasion 
sentimentally.  Craig  fairly  glowed.  His  mother, 
drooping,  charming  as  ever,  had  kissed  him  twice. 
Lili  had  clung  to  him.  Lili,  a  lovely  girl  now ! 
How  pretty  she  was !  How  slender  as  he  held  her  in 
his  arms!  Tony  had  gripped  his  hand  till  it  hurt, 
the  nearest  point  to  the  dramatic  the  situation  could 
boast!  Tony  was  little  changed.  The  same  sup- 
pressed beam  on  his  countenance,  the  same  would-be 
swagger ! 

"By  Jove!  Isn't  it  wonderful?"  Craig  had 
cried. 

The  familiar  faces  of  the  servants  with  their  defer- 
ential smiles  of  welcome  filled  him  with  a  great  con- 
tent. He  had  a  word  for  each.  Horton  was  haled 
from  behind  some  shrubbery  where  he  was  trying 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  proceedings.  The  old  man 
was  quite  overcome,  whether  from  the  ignominy  of 
being  discovered  in  hiding  or  the  cordiality  of 
Craig's  handshake,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 

They  sat  down  finally  at  the  table.  Tony  had  al- 
ready begun  on  the  gossip,  and  wanted  Craig's 
144 


The  Sinister  Revel 

opinion  on  his  new  tailor.  Had  Craig  heard  about 
Larry's  last  scrape?  And  did  he  know  Vera  was 
engaged?  What  would  he  advise  as  to  his 
(Tony's)  raising  a  moustache  this  summer?  What 
did  he  think  of  a  chain  drive  ?  And  had  he  ever  run 
a  Fiat? 

Yes,  it  was  wonderful.  And  Lili!  He  couldn't 
get  over  the  idea  of  Lili —  He  let  his  coffee  get 
cold  and  forgot  to  eat.  He  lighted  a  cigarette  only 
to  let  it  go  out  and  light  another. 

Later  had  come  rather  shyly  the  announcement  of 
his  engagement.  Mrs.  Van  Dam  and  Lili  had  taken 
it  calmly.  Tony  had  shown  a  lively  resentment, 
however.  This  the  end  of  a  brilliant,  continental 
career!  The  devil  of  an  anticlimax  in  Tony's  esti- 
mation ! 

"  Hell,"  had  been  his  only  comment. 

Two  weeks  later  Constance  and  her  mother  re- 
turned from  Tuxedo. 

It  was  a  strange  characteristic  of  Craig's  that  his 
decision  in  regard  to  the  vital  questions  of  life  should 
be  of  a  ready  definiteness,  seemingly  incompatible 
with  the  shifting  quality  of  his  moods  and  his  weak 
uncertainty  in  regard  to  the  trivial  matters  of  exist- 
ence. His  college  scandal  had  brought  the  sense 
of  a  complete  degradation,  involving  the  loss  of  Con- 
stance. During  the  whole  of  the  two  years  abroad 
there  had  been  no  thought  of  compromise,  no  hope 
of  reinstatement.  The  thing  was  over  and  done  for, 
as  absolutely  as  if  Constance  had  died. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  had  come  back  to  America  with  a  confused, 
disordered  sense  of  helping  her,  of  protecting  her 
against  another  man,  but  not  for  a  second  did  he 
think  of  making  a  claim  for  himself.  The  rush  of 
emotion,  the  wild  declaration  of  his  love,  the  lumi- 
nous reconciliation  had  come  of  sudden  flare. 
Craig  could  marvel  that  things  had  turned  out  as 
they  did,  but,  even  so,  his  sense  of  possession  was  as 
clearly  defined  as  ever  had  been  his  sense  of  loss. 
Constance  was  his.  How  could  she  not  be? 

It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  his  sense  of  security 
that  the  interview  with  Mrs.  Edgemere  should  hold 
for  him  no  terrors,  her  consent  should  bring  no  sur- 
prise. The  engagement  was  announced  in  due  or- 
der. Society  approved.  If  there  was  a  slight  feel- 
ing of  disappointment  that  Craig's  spectacular  career 
had  ended  so  tamely,  it  soon  passed. 

"  We  expected  at  least  a  Nautch  girl  in  his  train  I  " 
Andre  le  Conte  had  said  and  then  went  on  to  specu- 
late as  to  how  the  Lady  Edgemere  had  brought  it 
about. 

"  She  played  Milburn  as  a  counter  suit,"  Mrs. 
Hamilton  Raleigh  had  pronounced  with  conviction. 
But  Mrs.  Raleigh  had  three  marriageable  daugh- 
ters, poor  thing,  a  scant  income  to  back  them.  A 
fair  verdict  couldn't  be  expected  from  her  quarter. 

What  will  Lady  Asburton  say?     Could  the  little 
Connie  hold  him?     Speculation  as  to  the  amount  of 
the   nuptial  settlement  mingled  with  alimony   ap- 
praisals. 
146 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Andre  ended  by  predicting  fireworks,  but  that 
might  have  been  just  Andre's  way  of  keying  one  up. 
It  was  Andre's  part,  as  Society's  wag,  to  bring  about 
just  the  right  flutter  of  expectancy,  that  nice  titilla- 
tion  of  nerves  so  delicious  a  preliminary  to  a  real 
thrill.  Society  had  failed  of  a  real  thrill  for  some 
years.  It  was  high  time  —  In  the  meanwhile 
the  wedding  was  coming  on  apace,  and  there  was  no 
question,  for  the  present  at  least,  that  the  young 
people  were  very  much  in  love. 

They  were  in  love,  how  deeply  no  casual  observer 
could  ever  have  gauged.  Constance's  life  had  been 
singularly  lacking  in  those  little  affections  and  en- 
thusiasms that  make  up  the  usual  existence  of  a 
child.  Her  mother,  left  a  widow  when  Constance 
was  a  baby,  was  not  the  sort  to  encourage  effusion 
of  any  sort  without  a  practicable  end  in  view.  So 
Constance  had  been  forced  to  curb  her  little  childish 
exuberances,  store  her  energy.  In  the  end,  that 
energy  concentrated  into  a  great  worship  of  her 
older  sister,  who  had  married  and  gone  to  England 
to  live  when  Constance  was  but  nine.  Separation 
intensified  rather  than  lessened  this  devotion.  In 
Constance's  eyes,  Helen  was  a  paragon  of  the  beau- 
tiful and  the  wise;  it  was  in  the  measuring  up  to  her 
standard  Constance  had  attained  that  clarity  of 
thought,  that  poise  of  idea  that  set  her  so  apart  from 
the  other  girls  of  her  age. 

There  was  another  side  to  Constance's  nature, 
however,  neglected  and  overlooked  in  those  first 

H7 


The  Sinister  Revel 

years  of  her  persistent  idealism.  She  was  essen- 
tially a  mother,  the  instinct  of  protection  being  as 
strong  as  ever  the  need  to  work  to  a  lofty  end.  It 
was  to  this  instinct  in  her  Craig  was  to  appeal.  The 
very  turbulence  of  his  nature,  the  storminess  of  his 
moods  stirred  the  maternal  in  her  to  a  great  tender- 
ness. It  was  the  maternal  in  her  that  had  responded 
as  she  led  him  first  through  the  tangles  of  the  grand 
march.  It  was  the  maternal  in  her  that  had  fol- 
lowed sadly  the  waste  of  those  years  abroad,  that 
had  suffered  deeply  but  had  never  despaired;  it  was 
the  maternal,  finally,  that  had  been  able  to  forgive 
with  an  unqualified  forgiveness  it  is  given  to  only  a 
few  large  natures  to  understand. 

In  the  weeks  that  preceded  the  wedding  there 
came  to  both  Constance  and  Craig  the  sense  of  their 
love  as  something  intimate  and  physical.  They  took 
it  shyly  though  without  question;  the  odd  part  of  it 
was  that  Craig's  awakening,  for  all  his  past  expe- 
rience, seemed  no  less  pure  and  naive  than  Con- 
stance's. 

It  was  in  this  new  phase  of  interpretation  and  rev- 
elation that  the  woman  in  Constance  gave  place  to 
the  girl,  quivering  on  the  verge  of  new  things.  It 
was  a  trembling  Constance  Craig  had  kissed  for  the 
first  time,  her  pure  eyes  clouded  a  little  with  the  in- 
tensity of  an  experience  she  did  not  quite  understand. 
It  was  a  girlish  Constance  who  sat  with  her  hand  in 
his  and  talked  tremulously  of  the  future.  Their 
life  together !  Vague,  beautiful  years  on  years ! 
148 


The  Sinister  Revel 

But  Mrs.  Edgemere  and  Mr.  Van  Dam  -would 
bring  them  down  to  definite  calculations, —  where 
they  were  to  live  and  how  and  when?  There  was  a 
fuss  as  to  the  prenuptial  settlement.  Craig  always 
succeeded  in  blotting  any  paper  that  had  a  legal  air, 
and  invariably  signed  his  name  in  out-of-the-way 
places  destined  exclusively  for  a  notary's  stamp. 
Then  there  was  something  about  church  decorations. 
Craig  ecstatically  put  off  every  consideration  till  the 
morrow,  but  there  was  always  some  one  lurking  in 
his  path  to  pull  him  up  short:  Mrs.  Edgemere  with 
a  bridling  "  Now,  Craig,  as  to  this  business  about  the 
ushers  " ;  his  mother  with  a  wistful  "  Couldn't  you 
give  me  some  idea,  Raggy,  just  how  many  we'll  have 
to  put  up?  ";  or  Tony  with  a  contemptuous  "  What 
the  devil  are  you  going  to  do  about  the  bachelor 
dinner?  "  As  if  things  like  that  really  mattered ! 

There  was  one  trip  on  the  yacht;  Craig  liked  that. 
A  deep  blue  night  with  myriads  of  stars,  and  one 
fleeting  tremulous  moment  on  deck  with  Constance 
in  his  arms,  the  others  dim  shadows  in  the  distance ! 
They  had  all  gone  up  the  Sound  to  look  at  a  country 
house,  Mr.  Van  Dam's  wedding  gift  to  the  young 
people. 

It  was  a  lovely  old  place  of  mellow,  discoloured 
stone;  wing  on  wing,  terraces  and  gardens,  a  blue 
glimpse  of  the  Sound  in  front,  a  stretch  of  Park  to 
the  back,  big  enough  to  afford  a  fairly  decent  run 
with  the  hounds.  Its  charm  lay  in  the  sense  of  re- 
moteness it  evoked.  And  yet  — 

149 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Only  an  hour's  trip  from  the  City,"  Mr.  Van 
Dam  had  said. 

"  Only  an  hour's  trip !  "  Craig  had  echoed,  his 
eyes  on  Constance  as  she  stood  at  a  little  distance, 
getting  the  old  place  in  proper  perspective. 

Mrs.  Edgemere  said  the  servants'  quarters  needed 
overhauling. 

"  Overhauling !  "  repeated  Craig  intelligently. 

"  And  the  stables !  "  Mr.  Van  Dam  put  in.  Craig 
had  stumbled  off  to  look  at  the  stables. 

He  heard  his  mother  murmuring  something  about 
a  breakfast-room. 

"That's  my  idea,  too!"  Craig  had  said  and 
nodded  sagely. 

Well  —  what  need  to  follow  the  events  of  the 
next  few  weeks,  that  passed  quickly  and  yet  not 
quickly,  for  each  minute  was  packed  full  of  gaiety 
and  joyous  preparation !  The  bachelor  dinner  had 
resolved  itself,  much  to  Tony's  disgust,  into  a  gen- 
eral dance.  It  was  Craig's  idea,  the  one  point  on 
which  he  had  asserted  himself. 

"  Why  should  a  man  spree  the  night  before  he's 
married?  "  he  had  retorted  when  Tony  had  shown 
signs  of  turning  ugly. 

"  It's  rotten  form  not  to  I  "  Tony  had  returned 
heatedly.  "  Everybody  does."  The  argument 
seemed  more  than  sufficiently  convincing. 

"  Well  —  by  God,  /  won't,"  Craig  had  cried,  and 
flung  off  in  a  temper.     The  one  ripple  in  the  mill- 
pond  of  preparation  I 
150 


The  Sinister  Revel 

So,  one  bright  September  day  at  old  Trinity 
among  roses  and  palms  and  with  a  flutter  of  pulses, 
Constance  and  Craig  were  married.  They  found  it 
tremendously  serious.  The  voices  that  swore  to 
love  and  honour  had  a  strange  far-away  sound  and 
seemed  not  their  own.  Craig  was  very  white;  Con- 
stance's lips  quivered  sadly. 

"  Till  Death  do  us  part." 

Death!  The  one  discordant  note  in  a  beautiful 
ceremony  I  Craig  felt  again  the  old  shake  of  his 
nerves ! 

Then  there  had  been  the  glorious  burst  of  the 
wedding  march,  the  kiss.  He  and  Constance  had 
turned.  He  was  vaguely  conscious  of  the  wedding 
party  clustered  at  the  sides  of  the  old  altar, —  the 
girls  with  their  flowers,  the  ushers  tall  and  straight. 
And  there  was  Tony,  quite  close,  hot  and  red,  still 
conscious  of  that  troublesome  wrinkle  in  his  new 
frock  coat.  And  his  mother  and  father  there  in  the 
corner  pew!  They  were  smiling;  everybody  was 
smiling,  in  fact.  Even  Constance!  He  himself 
was  smiling,  too,  as  he  bowed  now  here  and  now 
there.  There  were  the  Anderson  Prescotts  and 
Raleighs !  Andre  le  Conte  was  murmuring  some- 
thing to  Elaine  Balsh !  Some  mot,  doubtless,  at  the 
expense  of  young  love!  And  the  Lawrences  and 
Schuylers,  the  Hamiltons,  and  Mannings!  A  sea 
of  people,  all  gathered  there  with  happy  faces  to 
wish  them  joy,  as  they  marched  in  triumph  down 
the  aisle  to  the  inspiring  strains  of  Mendelssohn. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  The  prettiest  wedding  of  the  season,"  Society 
pronounced.  "  Tout  le  monde  se  marie"  mur- 
mured Andre.  "  It's  all  too  tedious !  " 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  fourth  at  bridge,"  cried  Mrs. 
Prescott,  elbowing  a  passage  through  the  crowd. 

John  Hamilton  was  offering  to  run  some  one  over 
to  the  Pier  in  his  motor.  Mrs.  Schuyler  was  vaguely 
seeking  to  evade  her  husband,  with  an  eye  to  sup- 
per on  Rideway's  yacht.  Polo  tomorrow!  The 
Manning  dinner !  And  u  Is  any  one  going  to  the 
Bay  Shore  Horse  Show?  "  There  was  the  continual 
bang  of  motor  doors,  the  throbbing  of  engines,  the 
hum  of  voices. 

Meanwhile  the  young  crowd  were  thronging  to 
the  Edgemere  house  for  the  reception,  eager  for 
their  fun  that  was  scheduled  to  last  till  morning. 

But  Constance  and  Craig  —  they  sat  quite  still  in 
their  carriage.  Theirs  was  too  intense  a  happiness 
not  to  be  tinged  with  a  little  of  the  sadness  that  at- 
tends a  great  responsibility. 

They  spent  their  honeymoon  on  the  Idler. 
Moonlight  and  starlight,  an  ecstasy  of  tremulous 
romance,  of  gossamer  dreams  and  tender  realities! 
They  'accepted  the  glow  of  their  experience  as  inex- 
plicable as  it  was  beautiful,  and  drifted  pensively 
with  the  tide  of  their  emotions.  They  would  sit  for 
hours  at  a  stretch,  hand  in  hand,  watching  the  blue 
of  the  sky,  deep  in  vague  formless  thought  of  their 
love  and  each  other.  The  evening  shadows,  blurr- 
ing the  heavens  and  waters  to  a  soft  grey  mist,  would 
152 


The  Sinister  Revel 

settle  gradually  about  them,  seeming  to  shut  them  in 
to  a  tiny  world  of  their  own.  Then  Constance 
would  sigh,  and  Craig,  drawing  her  to  him,  would 
hold  her  close  in  his  arms.  So  they  would  rest  in- 
definitely, listening  to  the  gentle  swish  of  the  waters 
about  the  boat,  the  creak  of  the  rigging,  the  scream 
of  a  gull. 

As  the  days  passed,  they  began  to  talk  more,  easily, 
without  effort,  letting  idea  brush  idea  lightly,  with 
immense  anticipation  of  the  years  and  opportunities 
that  lay  before  them. 

Very  soon  West  Riding  became  their  recurrent 
theme.  West  Riding! 

"  Do  you  remember,  dear,  whether  there  was  a 
terrace  from  the  dining-room?"  Constance  would 
murmur  pensively. 

"  And  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  think — "  Craig 
would  bring  out,  "  whether  the  boat  house  was  to  the 
left  or  right  — " 

Yes,  reality  was  beginning  to  beckon,  reality  and 
West  Riding,  with  the  promise  of  a  firmer  grasp  of 
this  happiness  that  now,  with  its  illusive  skies  and 
shifting  waters,  seemed  in  the  nature  of  a  beautiful 
dream.  A  beautiful  dream !  A  precious  dream ! 

Yet — "I'm  almost  eager  to  get  home,"  Craig 
had  admitted  one  day  after  they  had  been  drifting 
about  a  fortnight,  and  Constance  had  responded 
warmly  to  the  suggestion.  After  all,  they  were  too 
young  and  vigorous  for  dreams  to  suffice  for  long. 
They  wanted  their  love  a  clearly  defined  actuality. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Their  home-coming  was  a  joyous  one.  The  ser- 
vants, family  ones  for  the  most  part,  old  retainers 
of  the  Edgemeres  or  the  Van  Dams,  were  gathered 
in  the  great  hall  to  greet  them,  forgetting  to  be  for- 
mal in  the  heartiness  of  their  welcome.  Simpson, 
as  master  of  ceremonies,  made  a  speech,  all  very  in- 
tricate and  elaborate.  The  fact  that  no  one  could 
follow  the  thread  of  his  discourse  made  it  in  no  way 
less  convincing.  Everybody  had  clapped  and 
laughed.  Whereupon  they  had  all  repaired  to  the 
dining-room  and  with  much  jollity  had  drunk  a  toast 
in  the  true  old  English  fashion  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  new  master  and  mistress.  If  Craig's  and  Con- 
stance's little  answering  speeches  failed  of  coher- 
ency, it  was  all  just  a  part  of  the  comfortable  infor- 
mality. They  were  no  less  grateful  for  being 
slightly  chaotic  in  the  expression  of  their  thanks. 

The  months  that  followed  were  happy  ones,  in- 
deed. There  was  the  daily  exultation  of  getting 
used  to  hundreds  of  little  things  that  had  quite  es- 
caped them  on  their  honeymoon.  The  settling  of 
their  own  particular  rooms,  the  instalment  of  a 
breakfast  porch,  the  shade  of  candles  in  Constance's 
dressing-room, —  all  questions  of  moment,  vital,  ab- 
sorbing. Craig  came  to  know  every  article  on 
Constance's  dressing  table;  each  little  vial  perforce 
gave  up  its  secret.  He  loved  to  handle  the  dainty 
fragile  things  as  he  sat  and  watched  Constance  do 
her  hair.  Constance  always  did  her  own  hair. 
There  had  been  one  stab  of  recollection  the  first 

'54 


The  Sinister  Revel 

night  he  had  seen  her  take  out  the  pins  and  let  it 
down.  He  had  closed  his  eyes  a  fleeting  second  to 
the  vision  of  slanting  walls,  a  flickering  light  — 
But  now  —  he  loved  the  little  frown  between  her 
eyes  when  the  golden  locks  refused  to  be  piled  in 
orderly  array;  or  better  still  did  he  love  the  tender- 
ness of  her  smile  as  her  placid  eyes  met  his  in  the 
quiet  depths  of  the  glass. 

They  exploited  every  corner  of  West  Riding, 
walking  hand  in  hand,  driving,  riding.  They  were 
charmed  when  the  weather  was  fine;  they  congratu- 
lated themselves  when  it  stormed.  Nature  seemed 
a  staunch  ally;  sunshine  or  the  beating  of  the  rain, 
as  their  mood  dictated. 

It  is  extraordinarily  difficult  to  trace  the  phases 
by  which  Constance  and  Craig  passed  from  the 
wonder  and  marvel  of  mutual  discovery  to  the  ac- 
ceptance of  each  other  as  a  sort  of  comprehensive 
and  beautiful  generalization  back  of  the  thousand 
and  one  details  that  make  up  life,  like  the  sky,  the 
air.  Each  was  just  there  for  the  other,  but  oh  how 
intensely  there! 

Yet  with  all  this  largeness  of  their  comprehension, 
trifling  things  mattered  enormously.  There  was  the 
first  time  Constance  had  a  headache.  Craig  sat  in 
the  darkened  room,  touching  tragic  depths  of 
thought.  Another  time,  Craig  took  a  nasty  cropper 
while  breaking  in  a  vicious  horse.  Only  a  shake-up, 
but  —  poor  Constance  !  How  she  worried  as  to 
complications,  internal  injuries  and  contusions ! 

155 


The  Sinister  Revel 

They  had  many  house  parties  that  first  year. 
How  could  they  avoid  them  with  their  young  world 
clamoring  at  the  door?  Vera  and  her  young  south- 
ern husband;  Larry  and  Doris  "  as  good  as  en- 
gaged," so  Tony  said;  Carly  Andrews  and  William 
Manning;  others,  new-comers  on  the  field;  one  or 
two  or  a  dozen  at  a  time  just  as  chance  ordained. 
They  had  the  best  of  times;  it  was  simply  that,  as  in 
the  old  dancing  school  days,  they  took  a  ready  zest 
in  one  another  that  was  quite  sufficient  to  keep  up 
the  tempo.  Craig  loved  it,  once  started.  It  amused 
him  so  to  watch  Constance  in  her  role  of  hostess, 
dispensing  hospitality,  looking  out  for  the  observance 
of  little  proprieties.  Yet,  in  reality,  no  need  of  a 
chaperone  existed  at  West  Riding,  for  there  were 
no  conventions  dared.  It  was  Constance's  art  to 
create  in  her  guests  a  certain  satisfaction  with  the 
simple  pleasures  of  life.  There  was  never  any 
straining  for  the  bizarre.  The  young  people  hunted 
and  skated,  danced  or  played  cards.  No  one  drank 
too  much;  very  little  money  changed  hands.  It  was 
just  the  natural  thing  under  Constance's  influence  to 
desire  the  best. 

It  had  been  that  way  with  Craig  from  the  begin- 
ning. There  had  been  no  dramatic  struggle  against 
temptation,  no  warring  of  elements  within.  He 
was  content,  that  was  all  there  was  to  it,  simply,  in- 
genuously content  in  a  world  where  evil  was  not. 

So  the  first  year  of  their  married  life  passed  with 
its  round  of  harmless  gaiety,  its  growth  of  deeper 


The  Sinister  Revel 

understanding,  its  greater  dependency  of  each  upon 
the  other's  presence. 

During  the  second  winter  Mrs.  Edgemere  had 
died  of  pneumonia.  Constance's  grief  was  deep, 
but  there  was  a  calmness  of  resignation  in  her  atti- 
tude that  made  of  her  sorrow  a  thing  of  dignity. 

Six  weeks  later  Henry  Van  Dam  had  died  sud- 
denly at  his  Club.  He  had  died  as  gracefully  as 
he  had  lived.  "  Heart  failure !  "  the  Dcotor  pro- 
nounced. The  financial  world  felt  itself  stricken; 
flags  drooped  at  half  mast.  Newspapers  flaunted 
his  picture;  people  talked  of  his  master  coups. 
That  is,  for  a  little  while  — 

The  death  of  his  father  affected  Craig  strangely. 
Death  had  always  seemed  to  him  a  terrible  thing; 
he  was  pitiably  afraid  of  it  with  almost  the  craven 
fear  of  superstition.  It  was  his  nature  to  fight  the 
sense  of  his  loss  with  a  wild  protest.  His  grief 
was  a  violent  one,  violent  till  it  broke  from  the  sheer 
weight  of  its  emotion  to  a  weak  despair.  He  could 
not,  would  not  bring  himself  to  look  upon  the  body 
till  on  the  day  of  the  funeral  Constance  had  with 
quiet  insistence  led  him  to  it.  He  had  expected  he 
knew  not  what,  but  his  father's  face,  so  fine,  so  calm 
and  peaceful,  exactly  as  he  had  remembered  it  in 
the  moonlight  on  the  yacht,  brought  a  sudden  strange 
quiet  to  his  nerves.  He  had  stood  there  with  Con- 
stance's hand  in  his  for  a  long  time,  giving  himself 
up  to  the  peace  and  hush  that  hover  always  about 
the  dead.  After  a  little  he  had  taken  Constance  in 

157 


The  Sinister  Revel 

his  arms  and  they  had  wept  together.  When  they 
went  away  it  seemed  as  if  death  were  not  so  pitiless, 
for  it  had  helped  to  bring  them  to  a  deeper  sym- 
pathy, an  even  greater  love. 

This  was  quite  true  in  the  months  that  followed. 
They  were  thrown  absolutely  upon  each  other,  as 
the  mourning  period  relieved  them  from  every  social 
demand.  Craig  reached  the  point  eventually  where 
he  could  talk  of  his  loss.  The  protest  had  gone  out 
of  him  as  he  stood  at  the  coffin,  but  there  remained 
an  unrest  and  little  haunting  regrets. 

After  that  trip  down  on  the  yacht  his  father  had 
shown  himself  so  eager  to  follow  up  their  new 
friendship.  But  —  well  —  the  years  had  stretched 
ahead. 

"  Plenty  of  time,  plenty  of  opportunities " — 
Craig  had  kept  telling  himself.  "  Later,  when 
Constance  and  I  are  more  settled  " —  That  friend- 
ship, for  all  his  neglect  of  it,  had  seemed  so  rich  in 
promise,  a  strength  for  future  needs.  And  now  — 
this  strange  terrible  thing  had  happened  to  destroy 
his  faith,  to  undermine  his  sense  of  security.  He 
was  apprehensive,  nervous.  Constance  talked  of  a 
trip  but  he  shook  his  head. 

Then  as  spring  came  on  there  were  business 
claims  to  take  him  away  from  home.  New  respon- 
sibilities were  piling  up.  Of  course  the  executors 
of  the  Van  Dam  estate  were  quite  efficient  and  could 
be  counted  on  to  do  things  properly;  but,  even  so, 
Craig's  presence  was  demanded  ever  and  again  in 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  city.  It  all  came  of  having  such  a  "  damned 
lot  of  money."  He  didn't  care  about  money,  never 
had.  The  thought  of  the  excess  he  possessed  de- 
pressed him,  weighed  him  down.  He  knew  himself 
as  a  sorry  business  man,  too;  that  realization  didn't 
at  all  help  matters  when  he  found  himself  in  con- 
ference with  some  financier  of  note.  The  very  def- 
erence which  greeted  him  everywhere  seemed  a 
mockery  of  his  ignorance. 

June  came.  Tony  and  Lili  and  Mrs.  Van  Dam 
were  going  to  Europe.  Craig  went  in  to  the  city  to 
see  them  off.  His  mother  seemed  more  fragile  than 
ever  in  her  widow's  weeds,  more  beautiful,  more 
ineffectual.  Tony  was  quite  the  man  now;  respon- 
sibility had  brought  out  the  best  in  him.  He  had 
been  on  the  point  of  starting  around  the  world  with 
some  of  his  young  friends  when  his  father's  death 
occurred.  He  had  given  up  his  plans  promptly  to 
take  charge  of  his  mother.  Not  that  Tony  intended 
to  forego  one  oat  of  the  crop  that  was  coming  to  him. 
Still  he  deserved  a  certain  amount  of  credit  in  that 
he  consented  so  readily  to  postpone  the  sowing. 

It  was  all  in  keeping  with  Craig's  new  unrest  that, 
as  he  watched  the  big  steamer  pull  off,  there  should 
rise  to  confront  him  for  the  first  time  since  his  mar- 
riage the  vision  of  the  life  he  had  lived  abroad, — 
that  dip  into  dishonour  and  degradation.  Those 
erratic  shames,  distorted  desires !  He  felt  a  sudden 
sharp  fear  at  his  heart.  The  stir  of  old  scars  — 
It  was  raining.  It  had  been  raining  in  a  dull  hope- 

159 


The  Sinister  Revel 

less  way  for  a  week.  Craig  huddled  into  his  ma- 
chine and  gave  the  order  for  home. 

"  Drive  like  the  devil,"  he  said. 

His  chauffeur  touched  his  hat.  It  took  an  hour 
to  pull  through  the  intricacies  of  city  traffic. 
Craig's  nerves  were  all  on  edge.  But  once  out  on 
the  country  roads  of  Long  Island,  with  the  image  of 
a  waiting  Constance  to  blot  out  everything  else,  how 
different  it  all  seemed!  It  was  rather  jolly,  in  fact, 
shut  in  the  car  with  the  rain  teeming  outside.  He 
could  even  bring  himself  to  smoke  a  cigarette  with 
relish. 

Vera  was  there  having  tea  when  he  came  in.  A 
fire  blazed  on  the  hearth  and  Craig  had  never  felt  a 
happier  sense  of  security  in  his  home-coming.  He 
would  have  preferred,  of  course,  to  find  Constance 
alone.  However,  he  contented  himself  with  watch- 
ing her  as  she  busied  herself  with  the  tea  things. 
Her  quiet  beauty !  Her  wonderful  eyes  that  seemed 
even  deeper  in  the  fire-light! 

They  had  waved  Vera  off  in  her  motor  a  half  hour 
later,  returning  hand  in  hand  to  the  fireside.  It 
was  then  Craig  learned  the  news  that  was  to  dispel 
all  shadows  and  haunting  doubts  as  to  the  right  work- 
ing of  destiny. 

Of  course  he  had  expected  to  have  a  child  some 
day.  Most  people  did.  Children  were  the  natural 
corollary  of  the  matrimonial  theorem.  Besides,  a 
big  fortune  necessitated  an  heir.  But  as  to  anything 
160 


The  Sinister  Revel 

immediate  —  Craig's  surprise  and  joy  and  incredul- 
ity knew  no  bounds.  What  had,  in  connection  with 
other  people,  appeared  simply  as  nature's  course,  in 
his  own  experience  took  on  the  character  of  a  miracle. 
Constance  a  mother !  Himself  a  father !  It  was  all 
too  wonderful  and  yet  too  absurd!  The  nice  part 
was  they  both  saw  it  the  same  way,  laughing  happily 
as  they  clung  together,  even  while  the  seriousness 
of  it  loomed  stupendous. 

"We  must  talk!  "  they  said  artlessly,  as  if  they 
had  never  talked  before;  and  it  did  seem,  really,  as 
if  their  previous  relation  had  been  as  nothing  to  that 
which  developed  in  the  next  few  months.  They  sat 
hand  in  hand,  hours  at  a  time,  planning,  always 
planning. 

"  It  will  be  a  boy,"  Constance  had  said. 

"Of  course!"  Craig  had  answered  and  there 
was  something  beautiful  in  his  young  conviction. 

Then  there  was  the  matter  of  the  clothes  Con- 
stance began  to  collect, —  tiny,  tiny  little  things;  no 
detail  was  too  small  for  Craig  to  be  called  in  consul- 
tation. And  of  course  the  nursery!  And  sun 
porch ! 

"  We  will  send  him  to  Yale,"  Constance  had  said. 
Craig  weighed  that  reflectively. 

"  And  we'll  call  him  — "  Constance  began. 

"  Henry  Bleecker,"  Craig  said.  Then  after  a 
pause,  "  If  only  father  — " 

He  got  instantly  the  thought  that  shadowed  the 

161 


The  Sinister  Revel 

eyes  looking  into  his.  He  had  begun  to  realize  but 
lately  how  unselfishly  Constance  had  hidden  her  own 
grief  to  help  him  bear  his. 

"  If  it  should  be  a  girl  — "  he  said  softly,  "  we'll 
call  it  Helen  for  your  mother." 

This  brought  them  to  the  subject  of  the  other 
Helen,  Lady  Asburton. 

"  She  may  come  over,"  Constance  had  said. 

Then  they  smiled  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  I'd  rather  she  wouldn't,  though,"  Constance 
went  on,  "  till  it  was  all  over." 

This  induced  a  confession  from  Craig  to  the  effect 
that  he  worried  horribly.  He  knew  so  little  about 
such  things,  but  women  did  die  '• — 

At  which  Constance  laughed  away  his  fears, 
proving  conclusively  it  was  all  quite  simple. 

So  the  months  passed,  months  of  tender  anxieties 
and  joyful  anticipation.  Craig  watched  develop  a 
Constance  of  fuller  beauty,  of  deeper  calm. 

He  was  obliged  frequently  to  be  away  from 
home.  Those  were  long  days;  each  ring  of  the 
office  phone  brought  a  panic  of  apprehension.  But 
business,  simply  as  business,  no  longer  irked.  He 
was  beginning  to  take  a  certain  pride  in  his  career  as 
a  financier,  and  worked  hard.  It  was  as  if  the  dig- 
nity of  all  fatherhood  were  at  stake. 

Then  two  weeks  before  schedule  and  on  one  of 
Craig's  days  in  town  the  baby  was  born.  Craig  had 
found  a  tearfully  joyous  but  distinctly  befuddled 
Simpson  awaiting  him  on  the  piazza.  The  old  man 
162 


The  Sinister  Revel 

was  not  too  drunk,  however,  to  read  the  sudden 
quick  terror  in  Craig's  eyes  as  the  truth  flashed  upon 
him. 

"  She's  all  right !  "  he  kept  muttering  thickly. 
"  We  'ad  a  pretty  'ard  time  to  be  sure,  but  I  says 
to  the  Doctor — " 

Craig  had  already  rushed  blindly  up  the  stairs 
and  stumbled  into  the  darkened  room.  He  was 
conscious  of  Constance's  white  face  on  the  pillow, 
the  steady  light  in  her  eyes  as  they  had  opened  to 
his  for  a  fleeting  second.  Her  lips  moved;  he 
caught  the  word  "  boy  "  as  he  bent  over  her.  He 
was  trembling,  almost  faint.  He  was  aware 
vaguely  of  a  white-capped  nurse  smiling  and  the  Doc- 
tor smiling,  too.  There  was  a  morsel  of  something 
in  a  cradle,  a  pitiful  wail  going  up  from  somewhere. 

Then  suddenly  everything  blurred  and  he  turned 
and  rushed  away.  He  didn't  know  what  happened 
after  that.  Only  Simpson  was  in  it  somehow,  lead- 
ing him  with  all  kindness  to  his  own  room  where  he 
had  thrown  himself  on  the  bed  with  a  great  sob. 


163 


Chapter  XI 

It  is  characteristic  of  a  nature  like  Craig's  that  it 
should  take  the  great  joys  of  life  as  hardly  as  its 
tragedies.  The  first  few  days,  although  Constance 
was  pronounced  perfectly  all  right  and  the  baby  in 
excellent  condition,  he  suffered  deeply  just  from  the 
intensity  of  the  experience.  Besides,  it  might  so 
easily  have  been  different. —  He  wandered  about 
the  house,  dazed  and  restless,  a  prey  to  the  most 
awful  depression.  Constance's  work  basket  in  the 
lounge  —  he  couldn't  bring  himself  to  look  at  it. 
Her  riding  crop  in  the  hall !  Yes,  suppose  Simp- 
son had  greeted  him  with  other  news  — 

But  Constance,  even  in  her  apathy,  realized  some- 
thing of  Craig's  unhappiness.  He  presented  such  a 
scared,  dishevelled  appearance  when  he  was  allowed 
to  enter  the  room.  The  third  day  she  had  begged 
the  Doctor  that  he  might  sit  with  her. 

"  I  am  lonely  for  him,"  she  had  said.  "  No,  I 
won't  talk." 

Craig  sat  there  all  the  afternoon,  her  hand  in  his. 
After  that  things  were  different.  The  next  day  he 
showed  an  active  interest  in  the  baby.  The  nurse 
put  it  in  his  arms.  He  held  it  several  minutes  to 
164 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  delighted  discovery  of  tiny  hands  and  feet  and 
features. 

"  Blue  eyes!  "  he  had  said,  smiling  bashfully  at 
Constance. 

"  They'll  change !  "  pronounced  the  nurse  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Oh,  no!"  Craig  said  and  in  his  eagerness  to 
protest  nearly  dropped  the  bundle  he  was  holding 
so  carefully. 

Constance  smiled  and  put  out  her  arms.  He 
gave  the  baby  to  her. 

From  this  time  on  Craig's  spirits  soared.  There 
was  so  much  that  was  cosy  and  intimate  in  Con- 
stance's convalescence.  What  a  celebration  they 
made  of  it  when  she  first  sat  up !  Then  there  was 
the  day  she  was  allowed  to  walk  a  little,  leaning  on 
his  arm.  How  patient  she  had  been,  but  how  very, 
very  tired  when  it  was  over!  After  that,  things 
went  rapidly.  Constance  grew  strong  enough  to 
come  down  stairs,  and  very  soon  they  forgot  that 
she  ever  had  been  ill. 

The  baby  now  became  the  focal  point  of  interest. 
There  had  been  a  day  when  he  cried  steadily  and 
with  phenomenal  lung  power  for  two  hours.  Craig 
had  been  frantic;  he  was  sure  the  child  was  about  to 
die,  but  Constance  had  shown  that  superior  wisdom 
given  to  motherhood. 

"Only  temper!  "  she  pronounced  calmly,  and  so 
subsequent  events  proved. 

It    really    was    surprising    what    a    remarkable 


The  Sinister  Revel 

knowledge  Constance  had  when  it  came  to  babies; 
Craig  was  perfectly  sure  no  young  mother  had  ever 
before  been  gifted  with  quite  so  much. 

Craig,  too,  began  to  learn  things.  He  came  to 
know  a  baby's  back  was  weak;  that  its  eyes  should 
be  shielded  from  bright  lights;  that  a  certain  con- 
tortion of  the  tiny  countenance  registered  wind; 
that  a  certain  other  contortion  registered  obstinacy. 
He  knew  when  to  shift  the  tiny  mite  onto  its  tiny 
stomach,  and  how  to  administer  a  rhythmic  pat, 
guaranteed  efficacious;  he  knew  when  to  look  the 
other  way  and  be  stern  and  impervious  to  the  most 
penetrating  of  screams. 

There  came  the  time  when  the  baby  turned  its 
head  at  the  sound  of  his  voice;  he  and  Constance 
were  ecstatic.  Real  parental  responsibilities  be- 
gan to  loom  now.  They  took  to  talking  of  educa- 
tional schemes  and  displayed  much  sageness  and 
discrimination  in  regard  to  "  systems." 

During  the  fresh  spring  evenings  that  followed 
they  would  sit  on  the  terrace,  still  exhaustively 
planning.  They  traced  each  step  of  the  little 
Henry's  babyhood  and  boyhood.  They  sent  him 
to  college;  they  married  him.  They,  themselves, 
grew  old,  became  grandparents.  Oh,  it  was  very 
young;  very  sentimental,  perhaps;  but  it  was  very 
beautiful. 

With  the  return  of  the  family  from  Europe  that 
June,  came  responsibility  in  definite  form.  Mrs. 
Van  Dam  had  written  she  would  like  to  get  home  for 
1 66 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  christening.  Constance  and  Craig  looked  at 
each  other  guiltily;  in  the  melange  of  their  educa- 
tional and  matrimonial  schemes,  the  idea  of  chris- 
tening had  quite  escaped  them.  Neither  Constance 
nor  Craig  had  any  definite  religion.  Constance's 
clarity  of  soul  was  a  far  more  potent  influence  for  the 
good  than  any  accepted  dogma  could  possibly  have 
been. 

Still  —  "  We  must  give  him  a  fair  start,"  Craig 
had  said  in  all  seriousness. 

"  We  ought  to  go  to  Church  ourselves,"  Con- 
stance had  suggested.  "  Example  is  everything 
with  a  child." 

Craig  assented.     "  We'll  look  into  it,"  he  said. 

Then  they  were  stricken  with  the  idea  of  Tony  as 
godfather. 

"And  if  only  Helen  could  be  here,  tool"  Con- 
stance had  reflected,  after  they  had  finished  their 
laugh  at  Tony's  expense. 

"Why  not  suggest  it?"  Craig  had  said.  After 
all,  it  was  only  fair  that  Constance's  sister  should 
share  in  the  joy  of  the  occasion. 

Constance  got  the  letter  off  on  the  next  steamer. 

But  Lady  Asburton's  husband  had  just  returned 
from  South  Africa,  and  was  inclined  to  be  malarial. 
Besides,  there  was  some  election  coming  off  shortly; 
Lady  Asburton  judged  her  presence  in  the  district 
indispensable  to  her  party's  interests. 

It  all  sounded  very  formidable  to  Craig,  as  Con- 
stance read  him  the  letter.  He  exerted  himself  to 

167 


The  Sinister  Revel 

interpolate  a  few  sympathetic  remarks  here  and 
there,  but  all  the  while  he  knew  in  his  heart  he  was 
damned  glad  things  had  turned  out  as  they  had. 
Somehow,  he  never  had  fancied  the  idea  of  her  lady- 
ship. A  woman  dabbling  in  political  projects!  It 
was  preposterous;  it  was  indecent. 

"  I  shall  make  it  definitely  next  spring,"  Lady 
Asburton  had  ended,  "  whatever  happens." 

"  And  she  will,"  Constance  commented  with  a 
smile.  Then  she  sighed  as  with  a  sense  of  her  own 
shortcomings  in  comparison  with  her  sister's  sterner 
virtues. 

"  There  is  something  almost  heroic  in  Helen's 
nature,"  she  had  said  reflectively  another  time  upon 
receipt  of  a  letter  wherein  was  set  down  in  her 
ladyship's  bold  hand  a  system  of  precepts  recently 
drawn  up  by  some  committee  of  her  county  for  the 
proper  uprearing  of  offspring.  "  Destined  origi- 
nally for  distribution  among  the  poor,  but  —  The 
keynote  of  the  age  is  democracy,"  her  ladyship  had 
gone  on  to  explain.  "  Why  not  begin  at  our  own 
firesides?  " 

Constance  had  not  read  this  letter  in  full  to  Craig. 
Not  knowing  Helen,  he  might  be  inclined  to  mis- 
judge. The  precepts  were  put  aside  for  future  con- 
sideration. But  one  day  when  Constance  showed 
herself  a  bit  anxious  as  to  whether  or  not  the  little 
Henry  was  being  brought  up  in  the  way  he  should 
go,  Craig  :had  taken  occasion  to  repeat  to  her  his 
father's  words. 
1 68 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  A  clear  vision !  "  Craig  had  said  softly,  his 
eyes  in  her  calm  deep  ones. 

"  A  clear  vision !  "  Constance  had  murmured,  sur- 
prised. The  tribute  pleased  her  more  than  any- 
thing else  had  ever  done;  it  seemed  so  all-embrac- 
ing of  the  good  and  gained  a  greater  poignancy, 
coming  from  one  who  was  dead. 

"  A  clear  vision !  "  she  murmured  again,  with  the 
strangest  little  tremble  in  her  voice. 

Craig  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"  It  was  that  saved  me !  "  he  said  quietly. 

The  first  reference  there  had  been  between  them 
to  Craig's  past!  But  Craig,  as  a  father,  had  been 
thinking  deeply.  He  had  forced  himself  to  face  the 
events  of  his  years  abroad,  that  he  might  make 
profit  of  them  for  his  boy.  He  himself  had  started 
all  wrong  in  a  world  that  was  muddled  and  con- 
fused; he  determined  his  boy  should  be  started  right. 
That  lurid  vision  on  the  wharf  had  frightened 
him,  had  taught  him  the  folly  of  evading  an  issue. 
So,  he  had  faced  things  squarely.  And  some 
day  he  meant  to  talk  quite  openly  with  Con- 
stance about  it  all.  Some  day,  when  the  boy  was 
older! 

That  Constance  realized  something  of  the  strug- 
gle that  had  been  going  on  in  his  mind,  he  knew  now 
for  the  first  time,  for  as  he  drew  her  to  him  he  found 
her  face  wet  with  tears. 

"  Yes,  it  was  that  saved  me!  "  he  repeated. 

"  My  dear  one !  "  was  all  she  could  say.  "  My 

169 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dear  one !  "  and  the  words  came  to  both  as  a  strange 
echo  across  the  years. 

The  christening  took  place  in  Newport  where 
they  went  for  the  summer.  "  Our  set  "  was  largely 
represented  and  they  had  a  jolly  time.  Tony  and 
Douglas  Edgemere,  a  cousin  of  Constance's,  were 
godfathers;  Lili  made  a  charming  godmother. 
Tony  was  well-nigh  overcome  by  the  weight  of 
spiritual  responsibility  thrust  upon  him.  Each  in- 
junction of  the  minister  left  him  gasping  with  a 
deeper  sense  of  guilt  for  past  sins,  but  with  valiant 
resolutions  as  to  future  conduct.  Vera  and  Courtz 
were  there;  Larry  and  Doris  soon  to  be  married. 
Even  Carly  and  Billy  had  consented  to  forego  polo 
to  grace  the  occasion.  They  had  all  gone  home  for 
an  early  dinner  afterwards,  a  little  dance. 

"  A  perfect  day!  "  Craig  had  pronounced  as  he 
and  Constance  wandered  about  later  in  the  garden 
talking  it  over. 

"  Of  course  all  babies  cry  when  they're  chris- 
tened," he  had  said  later.  He  put  it  as  a  fact,  but 
Constance  knew  he  wanted  the  support  of  an 
answer. 

"Oh,  yes!  They're  supposed  to,"  she  met  his 
need  promptly.  "  They  cry  out  the  old  Adam — " 

"And  wasn't  Tony  funny?  But  did  you  notice 
Simpson?  And  when  the  baby  grabbed  the  minis- 
ter's ear  — " 

So  they  talked  on  and  on,  contentedly,  with  no 
170 


The  Sinister  Revel 

sense  of  the  banal,  with  no  sense  that  others  before 
them  had  been  as  happy  as  they,  as  secure  in  a  pres- 
ent that  seemed  so  full  and  strong  it  could  never  pass 
away. 

The  summer  and  winter  passed,  each  day  differ- 
entiated from  the  preceding  not  by  the  variety  of 
their  social  engagements  —  a  yachting  trip  here,  a 
house  party  there  —  but  by  the  diversity  of  the 
baby's  goos,  the  progress  of  its  creeping,  the  unmis- 
takable development  of  its  individuality. 

The  little  Henry  from  the  beginning  had  been  a 
personality  to  compel.  No  insipid  babyhood  here, 
no  pink-and-white  fatuity  I  A  virile  force,  rather, 
that  displayed  an  alarming  tendency  to  dominate ! 
Prince  Hal,  they  called  him,  and  his  moods  certainly 
were  something  to  be  dealt  with.  When  he  was 
joyous  he  gurgled  with  an  abandon  that  was  not 
without  its  tone  of  ribaldry;  his  sobs  bespoke  a  depth 
of  disillusion  no  amount  of  attention  could  hope  to 
salve.  He  was  a  stormy  little  youngster,  all  in  all; 
Craig  and  Constance  adored  him  madly.  Craig's 
one  regret  was  he  had  none  of  his  mother's  features. 
He  would  have  preferred,  of  course,  a  replica  of 
Constance's  blonde  beauty,  but  his  own  dark  eyes 
and  vivid  colouring  were  unmistakable. 

"  Still  his  hands  are  yours,"  Craig  would  say  and 
managed  to  get  a  little  consolation  out  of  that. 

At  thirteen  months  Henry  was  walking.  He  was 
tenacious  of  purpose,  and  no  amount  of  bruises  and 
bumps  could  deter  him  in  his  efforts.  At  fifteen 

171 


The  Sinister  Revel 

months  he  was  talking  the  most  surprising  of  lin- 
goes. Simpson's  influence  was  dominant,  with  a 
bizarre  mixture  of  French  and  plain  east-side.  Con- 
stance and  Craig  let  him  go. 

"Isn't  he  delicious?"  Constance  would  say,  in 
an  undertone  of  course,  for  they  had  schooled  them- 
selves to  moderation  in  actual  presence. 

"  A  regular  little  cockney,"  Craig  would  murmur. 
"  Or  is  it  Fourteenth  Street?  " 

"  With  a  tang  of  the  boulevards !  "  Constance 
would  supplement. 

Then  they  would  laugh  themselves  almost  to  tears 
at  some  new  sally  the  child  had  to  offer. 

"  The  Van  Dams  are  really  too  tedious  I  "  So- 
ciety pronounced,  but  Andre  le  Conte  had  not  yet 
despaired  of  pyrotechnics. 

"  Wait !  "  he  cried  impatiently.  "  Wait !  "  And 
even  as  they  waited,  grumbling,  but  with  still  a  faint 
stir  of  expectancy,  Rumour  had  it  Lady  Asburton 
was  on  her  way  to  the  States. 


172 


Part  IV 


Chapter  XII 


Lady  Asburton  was  essentially  a  "  new  woman," 
of  the  type  that  relies  for  its  glow  upon  socialistic 
movements,  political  fracases  and  all-embracing  re- 
form. To  collect  people,  the  right  people,  at  her 
dinner  table  and  control  the  conversation  along 
strong  intellectual  lines;  to  attend  every  speaking  in 
the  county;  to  canvass  frantically  up  and  down  the 
district  before  every  election  in  behalf  of  some  pro- 
tege or  other  —  from  activities  of  this  sort  did  her 
ladyship  wrest  her  high  moments. 

The  best  example  of  her  efficiency  along  practi- 
cal lines  was  her  capture  of  her  husband.  Marcus 
Evesham,  of  the  house  of  Asburton,  had  come  to 
America  at  the  age  of  twenty-two.  His  title  was 
an  old  one.  He  was  rich.  Rumour  would  have  it, 
however,  insufficiently  rich,  and  attributed  all  sorts 
of  mercenary  motives  to  him.  The  fact  that  his 
little  jaunt  to  the  States  was  coincident  with  the 
debut  of  an  heiress  of  note  was  a  negligible  one,  how- 
ever, as  subsequent  events  proved. 

Mrs.  Edgemere  had  duly  investigated  the  Eve- 
sham  situation  upon  his  young  lordship's  arrival. 
At  cross  purposes  with  her  older  daughter  in  every 
other  line,  she  was  singularly  one  with  her  on  the 
matrimonial  outlook.  Consultation  resolved  into 

175 


The  Sinister  Revel 

speedy  determination,  Lord  Mark  the  victim. 
Helen  played  her  cards  cleverly;  Lord  Mark  suc- 
cumbed in  short  order.  That,  too,  with  the  Edge- 
meres  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy! 

Mrs.  Edgemere  was  reported  at  the  time  as  say- 
ing, u  I  had  hoped  Helen  would  do  better.  But  of 
course  —  young  love!  It  is  really  all  too  roman- 
tic! "  which  Society  enjoyed  thoroughly. 

But  even  if  the  Edgemere  policy  had  been  less 
obvious,  any  idea  that  the  marriage  had  been  a  ro- 
mantic one  would  have  been  quite  dispelled  after  a 
review,  no  matter  how  cursory,  of  Lord  Mark's  at- 
tributes. He  was  the  sort  of  weak-looking  young 
Englishman  totally  unamenable  to  classification. 
He  might  just  as  well  have  been  a  bank  clerk  as  a 
scion  of  nobility.  His  sandy  hair  was  there,  though 
one  wouldn't  take  note  of  it  particularly,  and  the 
only  evidence  of  his  moustache  was  that  he  was  con- 
stantly feeling  it.  For  the  rest,  he  was  agreeable 
and  could  be  endured  with  the  least  degree  of  dis- 
comfort possible. 

If  his  lordship  could  be  said  to  have  any  marked 
tendency,  it  was  that  of  taking  up  things  remote  in- 
stead of  things  immediate.  Occasionally,  however, 
he  would  throw  out  the  suggestion  of  a  line.  It  was 
for  others  to  follow  out  that  line,  but  of  course  no 
one  ever  did. 

As  to  his  morals  —  they  were  scarcely  discernible; 
he  was  too  weak  to  be  or  not  to  be  anything,  really. 
Of  course  there  had  been  that  little  matter  of  Lady 

176 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Asburton's  French  maid.  On  the  honeymoon  at 
that !  But  then,  one  would  always  expect  little  mat- 
ters of  French  maids  and  dancing  girls  and  the  like 
as  far  as  Lord  Mark  was  concerned.  Lady  Asbur- 
ton  dismissed  such  considerations  summarily,  giving 
her  husband  to  understand  perfectly,  however,  she 
was  "  on."  Only  in  being  fooled  lay  disgrace,  ac- 
cording to  her  twentieth  century  code  of  ethics. 

After  her  marriage  Lady  Asburton  made  a  point 
of  seeing  little  of  her  mother.  Possibly  she  feared 
financial  encroachment.  Or  still  more  possibly,  the 
two  had  come  to  the  realization  that  in  separation 
only  could  they  bring  themselves  to  a  sentiment 
proper  to  the  relationship  of  mother  and  daughter. 

The  little  Connie  was  different;  Lady  Asburton 
had  relished  her  blind  devotion  always,  for  the  flat- 
tery involved  as  well  as  for  the  fact  it  constituted 
a  sort  of  triumph  over  her  mother,  thus  forced  to 
take  second  place  in  the  child's  affections.  Lady 
Asburton  intended  to  do  big  things  for  Constance 
some  day,  but  —  well  —  England  needed  her  and 
the  times  were  critical.  Meanwhile,  Constance  was 
fairly  young.  Plenty  of  time  — 

The  marriage  with  Craig  had  wrung  from  her 
approval,  reluctant  approval  however,  for  Mrs. 
Edgemere  undoubtedly  had  scored  in  achieving  such 
a  brilliant  match.  The  Van  Dam  millions  were  a 
world  factor;  Lady  Asburton  felt  her  own  little 
light  suddenly  eclipsed.  She  was  the  more  envious 
as  the  news  had  come  at  that  season  of  the  year 

177 


The  Sinister  Revel 

when  retrenchments  in  the  Asburton  household  were 
being  vigorously  enforced,  to  the  end  of  meeting  his 
lordship's  annual  Ascot  deficit.  Lady  Asburton's 
nerves  could  ill  brook  at  such  a  time  another's  good 
luck.  She  could  find  consolation  for  herself  only 
in  reviewing  in  her  mind's  eye  the  very  lurid  de- 
tails of  Craig's  continental  career  and  predicting 
with  an  ominous  shake  of  her  head  that  the  thing 
couldn't  last.  It  might  be  all  right  in  its  way,  a 
triumph  of  the  moment,  but  no !  it  couldn't  possibly 
last.  As  for  any  financial  benefit  that  might  accrue 
to  her  through  the  connection  —  her  ladyship  smiled 
rather  grimly  to  herself  at  the  thought.  Her  own 
home  policy  had  never  embraced  generosity  in  its 
tenets;  she  expected  nothing  from  her  mother  now. 
The  sense  of  an  opportunity  wasted  did  not  help  to 
modify  the  acerbity  of  her  temper.  Her  refusal 
to  come  to  the  States  for  the  wedding  was  actuated 
entirely  by  pique. 

It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  Constance's 
letters  with  their  unqualified  praise  of  her  young 
husband  should  seem  to  Lady  Asburton  utterly  ab- 
surd. 

"  It's  all  right  for  Connie  to  marry  him.  But  in 
God's  name  why  let  herself  be  bulldozed?  " 

Thus  her  ladyship  in  monologue  or  to  Lord  Mark, 
as  the  case  might  be,  each  time  one  of  Constance's 
effusions  came  to  hand.  She  dismissed  it  all  as 
mawkish  sentimentality.  Like  most  women  of  her 

178 


The  Sinister  Revel 

strong-minded  type  she  was  not  given  to  nice  distinc- 
tions of  sentiment,  and  the  fine  quality  of  Constance's 
happiness  was  lost  upon  her. 

So  at  the  birth  of  the  little  Henry. 

"  Such  a  fool  palaver!  "  she  had  exclaimed  irrita- 
bly. "  A  baby's  a  baby.  Besides  — "  this  last  with 
her  fine  air  of  platform  conclusiveness  — "  it's  every 
woman's  duty." 

Lady  Asburton  had  done  her  duty  some  fourteen 
years  before. 

"  There,  that's  over !  "  she  had  pronounced  with 
a  good  deal  of  asperity,  and  proceeded  to  take  up 
again  her  golf  and  county  meetings  so  awkwardly 
interrupted.  There  had  been  no  interruptions  since. 

The  young  heir  had  been  educated,  as  he  had 
been  fed,  by  prescription.  He  was  now  at  Eton,  a 
splendid  exponent  of  the  gram  system.  Yet  there 
had  been  no  blare  of  trumpets  at  his  arrival ! 

The  rapturous  accounts  of  Craig  as  father  ir- 
ritated her  ladyship  more  than  had  those  of  Craig  as 
the  model  husband.  She  fumed  even  as  she  planned. 
Since  her  mother's  death  —  was  not  the  responsibil- 
ity of  the  little  Connie's  happiness  directly  hers?  A 
little  timely  advice!  The  child  was  so  absurdly 
artless  in  her  trust  of  that  scapegoat  of  a  husband. 
Early  wounds  scarred  less  deep —  No  indeed,  Lady 
Asburton  was  never  the  one  to  shirk !  As  for  Eng- 
land —  well  —  England's  need  of  her  presented  it- 
self as  less  pressing  the  more  she  thought  it  over  — 

179 


The  Sinister  Revel 

There  arrived  another  letter,  even  more  naive, 
rhapsodic,  that  provoked  her  ladyship  to  the  point 
of  being  almost  coarse. 

"  My  God!  "  she  had  cried  hotly.  "  If  she  goes 
on  this  way,  it  will  kill  her  when  the  break  conies!  " 

"Break!"  echoed  Lord  Mark  vaguely, 
"Break!" 

Lork  Mark  mustn't  be  misunderstood  as  attempt- 
ing to  throw  out  opposition  to  his  lady.  This  was 
simply  his  way  of  keeping  her  cognizant  of  his  pres- 
ence. He  was  there  to  be  talked  at;  one  never  in- 
curred the  danger  of  his  talking  back. 

But  this  particular  echo  seemed  to  arouse  in  her 
Ladyship  a  suspicion.  She  fixed  him,  in  that  dis- 
concerting way  of  hers,  with  the  lorgnette. 

"Yes,"  she  repeated  distinctly,  "break!" 

Lord  Mark  fidgeted;  he  preferred  to  be  taken  as 
usual,  simply  a  part  of  the  general  setting.  Such 
immediate  scrutiny  unnerved  him  to  the  point  of  a 
startled  query. 

"You  mean—" 

"  I  mean  nothing,"  Lady  Asburton  snapped,  and 
switching  off  her  glasses  left  him  to  a  confused 
speculation  as  to  just  which  of  his  latest  scrapes 
had  leaked  out  now.  "  I  suspect  she  meant  some- 
thing," he  reflected  uneasily.  "Break!"  It  did 
have  an  ominous  sound. 

He  communed  with  himself  for  an  hour  or  more 
over  a  bottle  of  second-rate  port,  the  best  being  held 
in  reserve  for  her  ladyship's  county  dinners. 
1 80 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Yes,"  he  murmured  at  last  with  a  conclusiveness 
out  of  all  keeping  with  his  inconclusive  mind. 
"  Yes,  she  did  mean  something." 

Two  weeks  later  Lady  Asburton  sailed  for  Amer- 
ica. 

The  note  of  discord  was  struck  almost  immediately 
upon  Lady  Asburton's  arrival.  Craig  was  prepared 
to  take  as  hardly  as  possible  this  invasion  of  his 
home  and  had  already  begun  to  feel  on  the  fringe 
of  things.  Constance's  blue  eyes  had  an  abstracted 
look  as  they  met  his;  her  hand  was  limp  and  irre- 
sponsive when  he  did  succeed  in  capturing  it.  Yes, 
he  was  just  comfortably  ignored  in  the  general  bustle 
of  preparation.  At  least,  so  he  thought. 

He  and  Constance  had  gone  down  from  New- 
port on  the  yacht  to  meet  the  steamer.  They  went 
to  bed  early,  leaving  a  wasted  moon. 

"  To  make  sure  we  won't  sleep  over  in  the  morn- 
ing," Constance  had  said. 

Craig  forced  himself  to  acquiescence.  He  knew 
perfectly  he  was  destined  to  hate  Lady  Asburton. 

"There  she  is!  "  Constance  had  cried  excitedly, 
as  the  next  morning  they  had  watched  the  docking 
of  the  liner. 

Craig  looked  up  at  the  rail  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  he  had  said  slowly. 

Strange  illusion  that  one  glimpse  had  brought  him  ! 
It  was  as  if  he  had  seen  Constance  in  all  her  warm 
youth  and  eagerness  suddenly  hardened  to  a  figure  of 

181 


The  Sinister  Revel 

stone.  The  same  features,  only  robbed  of  their 
mobility;  the  same  eyes,  the  softness  turned  to  steel! 
The  effect  was  disconcerting. 

Her  ladyship  had  now  seen  them,  and  was  level- 
ling her  lorgnette.  There  was  that  in  the  straight 
line  of  her  brows,  in  the  thin  line  of  her  closely 
compressed  lips  that  conveyed  even  long  distance  a 
certain  relentlessness  of  purpose. 

"  She's  looking  at  you !  "  Constance  said  delight- 
edly, at  which  Craig  stepped  back  with  such  precipita- 
tion he  blundered  into  the  woman  back  of  them. 
The  incident  infuriated  him,  particularly  as  Con- 
stance was  inclined  to  take  it  as  a  joke.  Even  as 
he  controlled  himself  to  apologize,  the  passengers 
were  seen  to  be  given  right  of  way,  and  the  gang- 
plank began  to  fill. 

In  the  confusion  of  greeting  that  followed  Craig 
was  aware  of  nothing  but  his  own  awkwardness. 
Again  that  painful  consciousness  of  youth  and  ineffi- 
ciency that  reduced  him  to  a  stupidity  of  inaction, 
incapable  of  taking  any  initiative  whatsoever. 
Somebody  mentioned  trunks;  somebody  else  men- 
tioned customs;  then  all  looked  at  him.  He  con- 
tinued to  stare  stupidly,  plunging  his  hands  the 
deeper  in  his  pockets  as  if  to  seek  inspiration  there. 
It  was  for  Constance  and  the  chauffeur  to  step  in, 
busy  themselves  with  this  detail  and  that.  He  stood 
the  while  with  her  ladyship,  the  deadly  lorgnette 
playing  over  him  with  a  thoroughness  that  let  noth- 
ing escape  it. 
182 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Only  once  did  he  nerve  himself  to  meet  her. 

"  So  you  are  it  I "  she  said  breezily.  "  Constance 
should  have  warned  me.  I  expected  — " 

"Well?"  he  had  asked,  looking  at  her  squarely 
for  the  first  time. 

"  Never  mind!  "  she  had  answered.  "  But  you! 
You  don't  look  sixteen!  " 

Craig  took  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets. 

"  Whoever  would  have  thought  — "  her  ladyship 
pursued.  Craig  got  her  implication;  his  two  years 
abroad  were  the  point  of  departure.  He  reddened, 
even  as  he  flashed  back: 

"Don't  think!  or  we  shan't  be  friends!  " 

"  Is  that  a  warning?  "  her  ladyship  put  in  quickly. 

"Warning!"  Craig  repeated.  Then  realizing 
Constance  had  returned  and  was  standing  beside 
him,  he  had  thrown  his  arm  lightly  about  her  shoul- 
ders. "  My  only  warning  is  you  will  find  us  the 
silliest  couple."  At  that  with  a  sharp  impulse  he 
had  drawn  Constance  to  him  and  kissed  her  on  the 
forehead.  She  let  him,  simply,  for  all  the  publicity. 
The  two  stood  linked  together  as  against  some  out- 
side force. 

"  The  silliest  couple,"  Constance  repeated  softly. 

But  Lady  Asburton  had  already  turned  away,  leav- 
ing Craig  with  a  quick  wonder  at  the  strange  stir  in 
her  grey  eyes,  as  they  had  witnessed  the  caress. 


'83 


Chapter  XIII 

Years  later  if  Craig  could  have  reasoned  the 
whole  matter  out,  traced  the  phases  by  which  he 
passed  from  a  supreme  content  to  the  great  unhap- 
piness  of  his  life,  his  protest  might  have  been  less 
bitter.  The  memory  of  this  event  or  that  would 
arise  though  with  no  intimation  of  when  it  came 
in  time,  what  led  to  it  or  with  what  it  was  joined. 
But  for  the  most  part  impressions  crowded  so  cun- 
ningly mingled  it  was  impossible  to  disentangle  one 
from  another.  Discords,  surprises,  disappoint- 
ments, misunderstandings, —  all  so  trivial  and  out 
of  proportion  to  the  crisis  they  precipitated. 

There  was  the  night  of  the  christening  —  he  and 
Constance  in  the  moonlit  garden,  rapt  in  their  happi- 
ness!  Then  there  was  that  other  night,  less  than 
two  years  later,  when  they  had  faced  each  other  in 
the  drawing-room  at  West  Riding  with  bitter  re- 
criminations on  their  lips. 

And  in  between  —  there  seemed  no  actual  hap- 
penings, only  moods,  vast  resistless  moods.  But 
always  his  love  of  Constance  was  there,  of  clear  and 
pure  depth,  for  all  the  turbulence  of  surface  emo- 
tion that  seemed  to  obscure  it.  It  was  as  if  his 
mind,  by  a  strange  perversity,  flowed  at  two  different 
levels.  There  were  times  when  he  found  himself 
184 


The  Sinister  Revel 

criticizing  her  with  a  surprisingly  accurate  appraisal 
of  her  little  deficiencies;  yet  the  old  vision  of  her 
remained  as  luminous  and  bright  as  ever.  All  the 
while  he  was  seeking  justification  for  his  own  lapses 
in  the  contemplation  of  her  shortcomings,  he  was 
ascribing  to  her  the  most  impossible  perfections. 
The  greater  his  need  of  her  as  he  had  idealized  her, 
the  more  intensely  he  saw  her  as  that  ideal. 

The  strangest  feature  of  their  relationship  as  it 
developed  was  that  Constance  absent  meant  more  to 
him  than  Constance  present.  The  memory  of  her 
seemed  to  distil  and  become  purified  of  all  the  little 
irritations  that  accumulated  with  time  to  make  their 
life  together  such  an  intolerable  burden.  Away 
from  her,  he  blamed  only  himself.  With  her  — 
but  he  was  never  with  her  in  the  old  sense  of  quiet 
and  peaceful  intercourse  after  Lady  Asburton's  ar- 
rival. When  they  were  left  alone  together  there 
was  a  marked  restraint  upon  them  as  if  each  feared 
the  other's  thoughts.  The  old  restful  talks  gave 
way  to  a  superficial  relation  that  dodged  every  issue 
and  relied  for  its  existence  upon  artificial  stimula- 
tion. Where  bubbling  exuberance  had  held  sway 
before,  conversations  were  now  "  kept  up."  It 
seemed  as  if  Constance  were  continually  warding  off 
a  criticism  of  her  sister,  a  criticism  she  sensed  un- 
favourable. She  appeared  of  a  sudden  to  lack  in- 
tensely decision,  she  who  always  before  had  stood 
for  consummate  clearness  of  attitude.  Her  words 
became  flat,  banal.  Constance,  his  Constance,  whose 


The  Sinister  Revel 

every  trifling  utterance  had  before  seemed  of  exquis- 
ite significance!  She  was  forever  seeking  compro- 
mise, struggling  in  a  bewildered  way  to  work  agree- 
ment between  the  two  people  she  loved  so  dearly, 
with  all  the  while  a  sharp,  painful  sense  of  break- 
ing down  under  a  responsibility. 

Constance's  devotion  to  Helen,  her  belief  in  her 
during  those  years  of  growth  that  take  impressions 
so  indelibly,  was  to  prove  more  deeply  rooted  than 
her  love  for  Craig,  which,  though  no  less  fine  and 
strong  of  itself,  lacked  the  security  of  hold  only  years 
of  struggle  can  produce.  Constance  and  Craig  had 
been  too  happy,  the  penalty  for  Constance,  a  dim- 
ming of  her  vision  that  might  have  remained  clear 
had  it  been  exercised  by  the  need  of  penetration. 

"  A  clear  vision!  "  he  had  told  her.  "  It  is  that 
saved  me." 

She  had  wept  then;  she  wept  now  often  and  often, 
confused,  bewildered.  But  always  compromise 
seemed  the  wisest  course,  compromise  and  a  forced 
passivity  of  attitude  that  succeeded  only  in  working 
to  Craig's  greater  desperation. 

In  the  beginning  there  had  been  only  little  things. 
Lady  Asburton  insisted  on  talking  politics,  always 
inevitably  politics !  Craig  grew  more  and  more  ir- 
ritable, his  knowledge  of  the  subject  being  of  the 
vaguest.  Lady  Asburton  saw  her  advantage,  and 
followed  it  up  with  a  sardonic  humour.  She  wor- 
ried him;  she  chivied  him.  Tammany!  Good 
God!  What  did  he  know  about  Tammany!  And 
1 86 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  tariff,  and  the  silver  question !  Constance  would 
intercede  occasionally,  a  puzzled  expression  on  her 
face,  a  murmured  apology  on  her  lips.  She  would 
change  the  subject  now  and  again  to  spare  him  in  his 
ignorance,  a  fact  which  angered  Craig  more  in- 
tensely than  her  ladyship's  direct  attacks. 

"  But  railroads  are  Craig's  line,"  Constance  would 
intercede  softly,  her  eyes  offering  him  encourage- 
ment. 

"  Damn  railroads!  "  he  would  flare,  with  a  ris- 
ing protest  at  her  tepidity. 

He  ended  by  damning  everything.  Damn  this! 
Damn  that !  And  all  the  while  he  had  the  humiliat- 
ing sense  that  her  ladyship  scored  the  more  through 
the  very  childish  petulance  of  his  profanity. 

Then  there  was  the  matter  of  the  little  Henry.  A 
running  line  of  criticism  on  her  ladyship's  part! 
The  child's  clothes,  his  nurses,  his  accent!  Con- 
stance dismissed  the  French  bonne;  Craig  had  pro- 
tested till  her  ladyship's  innuendo  as  to  the  girl's 
"  proprietary  attitude  "  had  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  hold  out  longer  in  her  behalf. 

Simpson,  too,  came  in  for  his  share  of  mistrust. 
It  was  as  if,  just  because  of  his  affiliation  with  Craig 
during  the  two  years  abroad,  he  were  for  ever  aid- 
ing and  abetting  him  in  some  evil  purpose  that  it 
seemed  her  ladyship's  special  mission  to  thwart. 

So  it  went,  disturbing,  irking.  Craig  at  first  set 
down  the  petty  arguments,  the  mean  annoyances,  as 
accident,  circumstance.  But  later  came  the  percep- 


The  Sinister.  Revel 

tion,  his  persecution  was  too  nicely  organized  not  to 
be  the  result  of  a  deliberate  scheme.  Her  lady- 
ship was  working  with  a  steady  persistence  to  his 
undoing.  Why?  The  subtlety  of  her  motive  as 
Craig  came  to  grasp  it  with  a  startled  incredulity 
made  the  struggle  of  their  forces  the  more  complex. 
Lady  Asburton  had  come  to  America  in  the  be- 
ginning with  a  clearly  defined  material  purpose. 
The  Van  Dam  money  had  been  the  lure.  To  open 
Constance's  eyes  to  certain  little  weaknesses  in  her 
young  husband,  to  effect  a  partial  estrangement, — 
the  thing  had  seemed,  fairly  simple  to  one  who  de- 
rided all  sentiment.  She  had  expected  —  well, 
what  had  she  expected?  A  man  like  George  Win- 
ters. And  instead  she  had  been  confronted  by  this 
disconcerting  youth,  whose  dark  eyes  had  established 
at  once  his  strange  appeal.  There  had  stirred  in 
her  something  suppressed  and  forgotten  long  ago. 
Some  schoolgirl  phase  that  had  had  its  dreams,  per- 
haps 1  It  was  in  keeping  with  her  denial  of  every- 
thing that  made  for  sentiment  and  emotion  that  she 
should  persist  in  denying  him.  He  represented  for 
her  the  softer  side  of  her  own  nature;  so  she  showed 
herself  merciless  in  her  persecution  of  him.  A  pas- 
sionless intellectualism  I  It  was  that  she  had  chosen 
in  the  beginning;  it  was  to  that  she  would  adhere  re- 
lentlessly to  the  end.  The  integrity  of  her  life 
scheme  was  at  stake;  it  was  for  Craig  to  be  sacrificed 
before  the  eventual  triumph  of  her  bloodless  theories 
could  be  secured. 
188 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Of  course,  you  are  a  woman's  man!  "  she  had 
said  once,  her  eyes  steady  in  his.  "  Your  type  will 
have  to  be  hunted  down  before  woman's  cause  can 
get  a  foothold." 

"  A  woman's  man !  "  How  that  had  infuriated 
Craig!  But  it  was  exactly  on  this  hypothesis  her 
ladyship  had  started  proceedings  that  first  summer 
in  Newport.  She  contended  his  devotion  to  Con- 
stance was  but  a  surface  thing.  A  jolly  illusion! 
But  en  intime,  why  keep  it  up  ? 

Suspicion  lurked  everywhere.  Craig  felt  him- 
self living  in  a  world  of  inaudible  accusations. 
There  was  the  matter  of  Ann  Brittingham.  He  had 
given  her  a  lift  home  from  the  beach  one  day.  An 
incident  passing  trivial  till  her  ladyship  got  hold 
of  it  to  point  a  scandal!  He  had  danced  two  or 
three  dances  in  succession  with  Larry's  new  wife 
at  the  Brentons'  ball.  Lady  Asburton  took  occa- 
sion to  embroider  on  the  theme  of  Titian  hair. 
Craig  found  her  interpretations  intolerable.  He 
grew  more  and  more  irritable,  his  flares  of  temper 
more  frequent.  He  took  to  going  off  on  the  yacht 
by  himself,  pleading  business  in  town.  All  excellent 
material  to  her  ladyship's  hand !  The  men  who 
came  to  the  house  took  on  the  nature  of  fellow-con- 
spirators, were  put  through  the  third  degree  and  then 
dismissed  with  a  sweeping  condemnation  of  the 
lorgnette.  All  the  while,  there  was  Constance 
standing  by,  struggling  to  keep  up  appearances,  strug- 
gling to  keep  her  faith,  her  belief,  her  love ! 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Eventually  Craig  threw  all  discretion  to  the  winds. 
He  had  done  everything  in  his  power  to  allay  sus- 
picion; he  now  wilfully  provoked  it.  Momentary 
annoyances  drove  him  to  drink  a  little  more  and  a 
little  more  till  one  day  he  deliberately  got  himself 
drunk  and  invaded  the  precincts  of  Constance's 
boudoir,  where  she  and  Lady  Asburton  were  hav- 
ing tea.  It  was  not  that  he  wanted  to  get  drunk 
particularly,  but  he  felt  a  perverse  delight  in  out- 
raging decency,  in  outraging  Lady  Asburton,  in  out- 
raging Constance.  He  laughed,  how  he  had 
laughed  at  the  horrified  expression  on  Constance's 
face  as  she  glimpsed  him  in  the  doorway,  staggering, 
his  clothes  in  disarray! 

Weeks  of  indifferent  dissipation  followed.  Then 
an  incident  had  occurred,  absurd  in  the  way  it  was 
brought  about,  irrelevant  yet  not  irrelevant  really 
for  it  had  pulled  Craig  up  short  in  his  senseless  de- 
fiance. 

There  had  been  a  scene  at  dinner  one  night. 
There  was  always  a  scene  at  dinner  every  night. 
Afterwards  in  the  hall  Craig  had  surprised  Con- 
stance with  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  had  dragged  her 
out  to  the  garden,  begged  her  to  go  away  with  him. 
That  had  been  in  September  and  he  had  just  learned 
her  ladyship  was  prolonging  her  visit  into  the  win- 
ter. It  seemed  more  than  he  could  endure.  He 
was  miserable,  utterly  miserable,  unhappy,  drunk. 
He  had  pleaded  wildly,  incoherently.  Constance 
had  hung  back,  white,  frightened,  uncertain. 
190 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  You  —  have  —  been  drinking !  "  she  had 
brought  out  at  last.  Then  she  had  broken  down, 
and  sobbed  like  a  child  as  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 
By  a  reversal  of  role  Craig  now  acted  the  com- 
forter. It  was  as  if  Constance  had  been  the  erring 
one  and  must  needs  be  forgiven.  He  held  her 
to  him  with  endearments,  and  all  the  while  there  was 
a  moon  somewhere,  struggling  from  under  the 
clouds.  The  silver  light  softened  gradually  the 
shadows  of  the  dusky  garden.  Constance  was  soon 
smiling  bravely  through  the  tears  Craig  was  per- 
sistently kissing  away. 

A  little  later  they  had  stolen  off  to  the  Idler  like 
two  truant  children.  It  was  part  of  the  lark  as 
they  saw  it  by  the  light  of  their  happy  reconciliation 
that  they  should  leave  only  a  note  to  break  the  news 
to  her  ladyship. 

Lady  Asburton  smiled  rather  grimly  as  she  read 
the  hasty  words  Craig  had  scrawled  on  an  old  en- 
velope. "  We're  off  for  another  honeymoon !  " 
The  words  with  the  haunting  imagery  they  evoked 
did  not  tend  to  soften  the  asperity  of  her  mood. 

The  trip  on  the  yacht  merged  into  a  two  weeks' 
truancy  before  the  renegades  returned.  Those  days 
alone  with  Constance  did  much  for  Craig,  steadying 
him,  restoring  for  a  time  at  least  his  sense  of  values. 
Lady  Asburton's  visit  was,  after  all,  but  an  incident 
to  be  endured  for  a  little  and  then  forgotten.  He 
and  Constance  had  had  such  a  beautiful  time  on 
the  yacht,  he  came  back  contrite  for  past  misde- 

191 


The  Sinister  Revel 

meanours,  resolute  as  to  future  leniencies.  He  even 
registered  a  determination  to  like  Helen.  The  three 
took  to  talking  over  their  winter  plans  almost  geni- 
ally. The  general  scheme  of  things,  as  it  evolved 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  was  to  quarter  at  West 
Riding  until  after  Christmas,  and  then  return  to 
town,  that  Lady  Asburton  might  have  a  run  at  the 
New  York  season.  Lord  Mark  was  rumoured  as 
about  to  descend  upon  them  during  the  holidays. 
That  was  rather  jolly,  Craig  thought.  With  the 
Evesham  scion  imminent  to  ease  the  strain  of  her 
ladyship's  entertainment  the  chances  were  he  could 
pull  through  till  he  and  Constance  were  again  left 
to  their  old  round  of  mutual  understanding  and 
order. 

Thus  it  was  when  he  encountered  George  Winters 
that  fall  in  town,  he  was  able  to  meet  the  experience 
squarely  and  with  no  apprehension  as  to  future  en- 
tanglements. They  lunched  together  at  Sherry's. 
George  had  just  declared  a  spectacular  bankruptcy 
in  Paris,  rushing  over  to  New  York  directly  after- 
wards to  get  the  notoriety  of  it  in  proper  perspect- 
ive. Craig,  in  his  newly  recovered  sense  of  secur- 
ity, might  have  been  accused  of  doing  a  little  good- 
natured  patronizing. 

He  was  able  to  meet  George's  "  Happy,  old 
man?"  with  a  ringing  "Absolutely." 

George  had  sighed  a  little  at  that,  meditated  a 
minute  and  then  brought  out: 
192 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Egad  —  perhaps  matrimony  i$  the  thing!  " 

"  It  is,"  Craig  had  affirmed,  "  and  the  only 
thing." 

Yes,  he  did  feel  superior.  Poor  old  George! 
How  sadly  he'd  bungled  life!  And  he  did  look 
seedy !  But  his  spirits  were  in  no  way  dampened 
by  adversity.  He  was  as  amusing  and  jolly  as 
ever.  As  coarse,  too ! 

They  took  to  recalling  former  exploits.  Craig 
had  long  since  passed  the  ticklish  point  of  dodging 
reminiscences.  There  was  much  to  tell  for  the  two 
had  not  met  since  the  notable  evening  in  Deauville. 
Craig  learned  of  Georgette's  marriage  to  a  young 
English  lord.  "  A  slick  article,  damn  her !  "  George 
had  said.  "  The  adored  of  her  county,"  some  con- 
servative paper  had  hailed  her.  Vivie  was  dead. 
Poor  old  Viv !  An  ugly  business  in  Vienna  the  pre- 
ceding winter ! 

Cecil  was  booked  for  a  trip  to  the  States  during 
the  winter. 

"Quite  bald!"  George  had  pronounced  with  a 
condescending  air,  and  ran  his  fingers  over  his  own 
carefully  preserved  locks  with  bland  satisfaction. 

Then  there  was  the  Comtesse  de  Lavergne  — 
but  that  had  come  out  in  all  the  papers.  And  did 
Craig  remember  that  little  dancer  they  picked  up  at 
Nice — ?  Oh!  the  Duke  was  reported  in  India. 
And  that  young  Austrian  they  had  visited  some- 
where in  the  Tyrol  —  Well,  by  God,  he  shot  himself 

193 


The  Sinister  Revel 

in  Monaco  —  ruined.  A  woman;  no,  a  horse  — 
George's  narrations  were  always  enhanced  by  the 
insecurity  of  his  detail. 

Craig  listened.  There  were  names  that  meant 
nothing  to  him.  Faces  and  incidents  had  become 
blurred.  But  he  encouraged  George  to  talk  on 
and  on.  The  fact  that  he  could  take  the  old  life  so 
objectively  brought  an  immense  satisfaction  he  chose 
to  prolong. 

The  lunch  had  terminated  comfortably.  Craig 
drank  but  little.  As  they  were  parting  he  had  of- 
fered to  help  George  out  financially. 

"Just  till  you  get  straightened  out!"  he  had 
added  to  ease  off  the  situation. 

George's  sensibilities,  however,  were  not  over 
delicate;  he  managed  to  bear  up  admirably  under  the 
ignominy  of  having  to  accept  the  proffered  loan.  A 
loan  as  between  friends,  of  course,  precluding  set- 
tlement ! 

Yes,  there  was  one  other  little  thing  Craig  could  do 
for  George.  Natty  Weyburn!  George  couldn't 
afford  to  keep  him  on;  could  afford  even  less  to  let 
him  go,  the  scoundrel!  This  last  with  the  most 
comprehensive  of  winks !  If  Craig  would  take  him 
on  for  awhile  just  till  all  this  beastly  hue  and  cry 
was  over  — 

A  thing  very  simple  of  adjustment !  Craig  rather 
jumped  at  the  offer,  feeling  the  advantage  very  much 
on  his  side.  Poor  old  Horton  was  getting  feeble; 
the  stables  had  undoubtedly  gone  off.  His  stud  had 
194 


The  Sinister  Revel 

come  to  mean  less  and  less  to  him  since  his  mar- 
riage, but  there  was  a  certain  pride  in  wishing  to 
have  things  right  for  the  arrival  of  Lord  Mark.  As 
he  remembered,  Lord  Mark  had  the  reputation  for 
knowing  horses,  if  nothing  else. 

The  deal  was  closed,  all  details  left  to  George's 
discretion.  Natty  was  then  in  Vienna.  Or  — 
hang  it  all  —  was  it  Geneva? 

"  No  hurry!  "  Craig  had  said,  and  dismissed  the 
subject. 

He  urged  a  week-end  at  West  Riding. 
•  George  had  grimaced.     "  Lady  Asburton's  with 
you?" 

Craig  confessed  it.  George  decided  for  Hot 
Springs  — 

All  passing  trivial,  but  the  incident  of  Weyburn 
was  to  be  made  the  giant  issue  between  Craig  and 
Lady  Asburton. 

He  had  mentioned  tentatively  that  night  at  din- 
ner his  encounter  with  Winters.  The  topic  had 
passed  with  little  comment  to  Craig's  great  relief. 
He  was  used,  even  during  periods  of  armistice,  to 
having  every  subject  he  saw  fit  to  introduce  turned 
against  him.  That  of  Winters  bristled  with  possi- 
bilities, but  her  ladyship  let  it  pass.  Even  as  he 
exulted,  however,  the  storm  broke  from  another 
quarter  about  his  head.  He  had  gone  on  to  speak 
of  his  acquirement  of  Weyburn,  quite  by  the  way  and 
without  attaching  any  significance  whatever  to  the 
incident.  He  had  thought  of  Weyburn  purely  and 

195 


The  Sinister  Revel 

simply  as  an  expert  trainer,  a  higher  servant.  It 
was  for  Lady  Asburton  to  interpret  him  in  uglier 
terms. 

Weyburn!  The  spark  was  struck;  the  old  an- 
tagonism flamed  the  higher  for  the  weeks  of 
smouldering  quiescence. 

Craig  realized  too  late  he  had  made  a  mistake. 
The  man  was  notorious.  Had  he  considered  be- 
fore his  lurid  reputation  —  But  with  Lady  Asbur- 
ton barking  at  his  heels  it  was  too  late  now  to  re- 
tract. 

That  first  scene  became  confused  with  dozens  of 
others,  harsh,  bitter  scenes.  It  was  in  Lady  Asbur- 
ton's  power  to  bring  out  the  worst  in  Craig.  He 
surprised  himself  in  little  meannesses;  he  was  petty, 
capable  of  a  snarl.  Lady  Asburton  plied  him  with 
example  after  example  of  Natty's  perfidy.  There 

was  the  matter  of  young  Lord  R ;  the  de  Vieu- 

ville  scandal  —  And  as  for  his  relation  with  George 
Winters  —  Her  Ladyship  grew  less  nice  in  her  choice 
of  words  as  she  warmed  to  her  subject.  She  called 
the  man  starkly  a  procurer,  a  pander. 

"  But  damn  it  all  — "  cried  Craig,  inflamed  to 
resistance  at  any  cost,  "  the  man's  a  servant. 
What  have  his  morals  to  do  with  me?  " 

"  But  the  child — " 

Ah,  there  Lady  Asburton  had  the  advantage ;  how 
much  so  Craig  came  to  realize  as  Constance  sud- 
denly threw  off  her  conciliatory  guise  and  stood  forth 
again  clear  of  decision,  calm  of  attitude.  But  this 
,196 


The  Sinister  Revel 

time  Craig  was  to  feel  the  steady  force  of  her 
strength  aligned  against  him.  Lady  Asburton  had 
reached  her  at  last  through  the  child. 

There  were  times  as  Craig  faced  the  two  women 
when  the  identity  of  the  one  he  loved  merged  com- 
pletely with  that  of  the  one  he  hated.  The  same 
cold  critical  eyes,  the  measured  words!  Bloodless, 
he  pronounced,  with  all  the  while  a  grip  at  his 
heart,  for  he  knew  that  back  of  it  all  Constance 
was  there  for  him  as  she  had  always  been,  dear 
beautiful  vision !  It  was  because  he  realized  Lady 
Asburton's  presence  was  working  gradually  to  an 
obscurity  of  that  vision  that  he  completely  lost  his 
head.  It  was  as  if  something  had  suddenly  failed 
in;  the  essential  confidence  of  life.  He  ended  by 
blindly,  stupidly  deeming  Weyburn  the  real  is- 
sue. 

"  Weyburn !  By  God,  I'll  have  Weyburn  if  it 
wrecks  my  whole  life !  " 

So  he  had  cried  one  night  as  he  flung  out  of  the 
house  in  a  great  rage.  It  had  been  the  usual  scene 
at  dinner,  different  only  in  that  it  was  destined  to  be 
the  climacteric  one. 

A  steady  goading  on  Lady  Asburton's  part,  in- 
solence on  Craig's !  Then  beside  himself  at  last,  he 
had  jumped  up  from  the  table  with  an  oath,  tipping 
over  a  glass  of  claret  in  his  violence.  He  remem- 
bered that  scene  so  vividly  afterwards, —  the  expres- 
sion on  the  face  of  the  old  butler,  the  red  stain  on 
the  dead  white  of  the  cloth;  the  tense  second  his  eyes 

197 


The  Sinister  Revel 

had  held  Constance's,  before  she  turned  in  calm  self- 
possession  to  engage  Lady  Asburton  in  some  casual 
small  talk.  The  footmen  took  up  again  their  noise- 
less service  and  Craig  was  left  to  blunder,  awkward 
and  raging,  out  of  the  room. 

He  had  taken  the  train  to  town  that  night  with 
the  idea  of  getting  drunk,  beastly  drunk.  Yet  he  was 
singularly  disinclined.  Pathetic,  this  determination 
to  do  something  dreadful,  quite  unsupported  by  in- 
clination! The  perverse  desire  to  outrage  decency 
—  that  was  it! 

It  is  indicative  of  the  life  Craig  had  been  lead- 
ing for  four  years  that  he  was  strangely  nervous 
and  uncertain  as  to  ways  and  means  of  carrying  out 
his  intention.  He  simply  hadn't  mixed  with  the 
fast  element  that  knows  the  New  York  game. 

He  dropped  in  first  at  the  Union  Club  and  looked 
about.  Everything  dull  and  safe  there !  A  group 
of  men  hailed  him  at  one  point;  a  detached  individual 
greeted  him  at  another.  He  made  his  way  to  a 
remote  corner  and  sat  down.  He  had  just  passed 
Sargent's  portrait  of  his  father  in  the  outer  lounge; 
the  eyes  seemed  to  follow  him.  He  mused  a  little 
sadly.  Then  suddenly  he  brightened.  His  mother  ! 
Tony!  Lili!  He'd  go  home  and  spend  the  night. 
He'd  been  neglecting  them  lately.  It  was  exactly 
the  thing  he  wanted  to  do.  A  couple  of  days  and 
he'd  get  his  nerve  again  — 

But  Mrs.  Van  Dam  was  at  the  opera.  Mr. 
Tony?  The  butler  wasn't  sure  about  Mr.  Tony. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Tony  never  would  give  you  a  clue  as  to  his  where- 
abouts, enshrouding  his  slightest  move  in  a  mystery 
that  might  have  covered  a  Louis  XV  intrigue. 

Yes,  Miss  Lili  was  in.  The  footman  would  send 
word  — 

Craig  preferred  to  go  directly  up  himself,  how- 
ever. He  was  just  as  glad  that  it  had  turned  out  this 
way.  He  felt  suddenly  tired.  A  quiet  talk  with 
Lili  and  he'd  go  right  to  bed.  He  hadn't  been  sleep- 
ing well  lately. 

The  door  of  Lili's  sitting-room  was  ajar.  He 
tapped  lightly  and  then  went  in.  The  fitful  glow 
of  a  fire  on  the  hearth  greeted  him.  Dim  lights, 
each  with  its  little  orb  of  brightness  merging  to 
dusky  shadows!  Craig  stood  still  a  minute  and 
drew  a  deep  breath  of  tired  content.  The  teeming 
irritations  of  the  last  few  weeks  seemed  suddenly 
so  remote,  so  incredible  of  accident.  He  took  a 
step  toward  the  fire.  As  he  did  so  a  slim  figure  de- 
tached itself  from  the  general  blur  of  objects. 

"  Lili !  "  he  said  and  read  his  mistake  at  once  in 
the  strange  tense  eyes  that  smiled  back  into  his. 
Then  memory  startled.  The  tiny  face,  the  hair  in 
dark  confusion  —  He  had  broken  into  a  laugh,  con- 
fused, pleased,  amused. 

"  The  little  Mimi!  "  he  cried  and  took  both  her 
hands. 

She,  too,  laughed  an  odd  little  laugh  as  they  stood 
looking  at  each  other  with  surprised  intent.  Then 
she  drew  her  hands  away. 

199 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  I  am  tired,"  Craig  had  said.  Irrelevant,  but 
one  had  to  begin  somewhere. 

"  Ah !  "  The  yellow  light  in  Mimi's  eyes  soft- 
ened. "  I  am  sorry,  so  sorry !  "  She  spoke  with  an 
inimitable  little  accent  that  made  her  sympathy  the 
more  appealing. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  She  indicated  the 
divan.  Craig  sank  deep  in  a  corner.  Mimi  settled 
on  a  low  footstool.  How  tiny  she  was,  almost 
sickly  with  her  great  dark  eyes  aglintl  Again  the 
image  of  the  little  girl  under  his  horse's  hoofs,  and 
that  strange  stir  of  forgotten  feelings!  But  she 
was  becoming  conscious  of  his  too  prolonged  scrutiny. 
He  roused  himself  to  offer  her  a  cigarette.  They 
made  play  at  lighting  up.  But  always  he  was  aware, 
intensely  aware,  of  her  eyes  with  their  eerie  flicker. 
He  found  himself  watching  them  with  a  curiosity 
suddenly  sharpened  even  as  he  was  able  to  bring 
himself  to  follow  her  casual  lead.  Reminiscences 
were  in  order. 

"  You  jerked  my  arm.     I  can  never  forgive." 

He  was  contrite,  admitted  himself  a  brute. 

"  But  you  were  such  a  baby !  "  he  could  only  plead 
in  extenuation.  "  My  dignity  was  imperilled." 

"  I  had  marked  preferences  even  at  six,"  Mimi 
had  mused. 

He  smiled  his  appreciation  at  her. 

"  You  seem,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  took  in  quite 
thoroughly  her   slight  proportions,   "  not   so   very 
much  older  now." 
200 


The  Sinister  Revel 

She  met  this  with  puckered  brow. 

"You  mean  —  your  dignity  is  still  imperilled?" 

"  If  it  were  only  my  dignity,"  he  had  murmured. 

Then  they  both  laughed  at  his  schoolboy  tactics. 

Mimi  veered  a  little  now. 

"  You  know  —  I  have  followed  your  every  move 
since.  The  newspapers  — " 

Craig  was  sobered.     He  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  It  must  have  made  ugly  reading — " 

Mimi  shrugged  at  that. 

"  Le  roi  s'amuse !  "  she  said  lightly. 

Then  rising,  as  if  suddenly  aware  of  formalities 
overlooked,  she  had  broken  again  into  her  charming 
French. 

Lili  was  ill,  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  headache.  If 
he  liked  — 

Craig  admitted  that  he  would  like,  and  Mimi 
disappeared.  A  second  later  he  was  summoned  to 
Lili's  room. 

The  scene  was  a  familiar  one.  That  Lili  should 
have  headaches  in  her  fragile  way  he  took  for 
granted.  His  mother  always  had;  it  went  somehow 
with  their  lovely  dependent  type.  He  took  in  with 
a  sense  of  nice  intimacy  now  the  dainty  Fragonard 
room,  Lili  in  a  filmy  gown,  her  golden  hair  loose 
about  her  shoulders.  She  had  drawn  him  down  to 
kiss  her.  He  was  vaguely  aware  of  flowers  some- 
where, drapery  blowing  gently  at  a  window. 

Then  suddenly  his  eyes  met  Mimi's,  as  she  sat 
at  a  dressing  table,  toying  idly  with  the  gold  things. 

201 


The  Sinister  Revel 

There  was  a  quick  sensatory  interchange,  a  second's 
illumination  of  vivid  understanding.  It  passed,  but 
it  left  Craig  with  a  haunting  sense  of  peril.  That 
sharp  pang  of  desire  evoked  by  the  little  Mimi  con- 
stituted a  great  injustice  to  Constance. 

Constance !  Her  image  presented  itself  now  like 
something  dramatically  recalled,  fine  and  generous,  a 
refuge  from  temptation. 

And  all  the  while  he  was  staring  wide-eyed  at  the 
little  Mimi,  muttering  he  must  go  home. 

Lili  had  again  pulled  him  down  beside  her,  was 
smoothing  his  hair. 

"  You  look  wild,  Raggy,"  she  was  saying.  "  Are 
you  drinking  now?  Ah,  no!  You  can't  go.  You 
must  stay  all  night.  Talk  to  me  for  a  while,  or  else 
take  Mimi  somewhere  to  dance." 

Mimi's  eyes,  as  he  ventured  to  meet  them  again, 
indorsed  the  invitation,  but  Craig,  almost  in  a  panic, 
protested  he  had  to  go. 

"  Some  other  time  1  "  he  kept  repeating  stupidly. 
"  Some  other  time !  " 

He  remembered  vaguely  kissing  Lili  good-bye. 
Mimi  had  murmured  "  A  bientot."  Then  he  was 
in  a  train  plunging  quickly  back  to  West  Riding  and 
Constance. 

In  Constance's  presence  only  did  he  feel  he  could 
lose  that  sense  of  insecurity  that  had  come  to  him  so 
strangely.  He  would  go  to  her  as  he  had  in  the 
beginning  when  she  had  dispelled  all  doubt  with  her 
sweet  benignity.  In  the  contemplation  of  her  as  she 

202 


The  Sinister  Revel 

had  been  then,  he  lost  all  consciousness  of  the  weeks 
that  had  worked  to  their  estrangement.  She  was  as 
essentially  his  salvation  now  as  she  had  been  then. 

He  was  all  unstrung,  his  nerves  on  edge.  The 
trip  seemed  interminable.  The  footman  who  let 
him  in  saw  his  plight,  hastened  to  get  him  some 
brandy.  He  could  hardly  steady  his  hand  to  hold 
the  glass. 

Then  he  had  stumbled  upstairs  to  his  own  room. 
The  faint  streak  of  light  under  the  door  leading 
to  Constance's  dressing-room  brought  an  infinite 
sense  of  relief.  She  was  there,  and  alone  for  he 
heard  her  moving  softly  about.  That  steadied  him. 
He  went  to  the  door  with  a  great  thankfulness  in 
his  heart,  but  even  as  he  put  his  hand  on  the  knob, 
the  key  had  been  turned  with  a  grating  click. 

"  Constance!  "  he  cried  as  if  the  word  had  been 
wrung  from  him  with  a  sharp  pain.  "  Constance !  " 

The  strange,  almost  uncanny  silence  in  the  next 
room  was  his  only  answer. 

He  "fumbled  the  knob  blindly.  Then  with  a  great 
rush  of  anger  and  disbelief  and  despair,  he  threw 
his  whole  force  against  the  frame  of  the  door.  It 
resisted  stoutly,  hurling  him  back  with  violence  upon 
his  own  strength.  He  was  stunned  for  a  minute, 
reaching  out  uncertainly  to  steady  himself.  Then, 
trembling  with  mortification,  aghast  at  the  signifi- 
cance of  it  all,  he  had  felt  his  way  to  a  chair  by  the 
window,  and  sat  staring  stupidly  out  into  the  black- 
ness of  the  night. 

203 


Part  V 


Chapter  XIV 

In  the  days  following  Constance's  definite  exclu- 
sion of  him  from  her  room,  Craig  was  too  stunned  to 
think  at  all.  He  accepted  the  decree  of  exile 
dumbly,  without  thought  of  reprieve.  After  those 
first  few  moments  of  defiance  and  protest  had  come  a 
hopeless  feeling  of  finality.  There  was  no  sense 
of  a  crisis  precipitated,  of  a  thing  done  that  might 
be  undone.  Craig,  still,  with  all  youthful  simplic- 
ity, believed  in  Fate.  It  was  Fate,  then,  that  had 
closed  down  upon  him  so  irrevocably.  It  was  sim- 
ply life,  that  was  all,  so  inexorable  toward  those  who 
dispute  its  detestable  tenets. 

The  other  married  men  he  knew  I  He  had  con- 
demned what  he  judged  their  laxity,  developed,  in 
the  smug  security  of  his  own  happiness,  an  unchari- 
table sneer  for  their  vagaries.  He  had  seen  his 
friends  divorcing  and  being  divorced,  making  love 
and  remarrying.  He  had  watched  the  growth  of  the 
mistress  problem,  thrusting  relentlessly  into  the  so- 
cial order  with  an  ever-recurring  demand  for  recog- 
nition. He  had  come  to  believe  such  things  were  im- 
moral, objectionable,  unnecessary  and  contemptible. 
Now  —  he  was  beginning  to  see  them  as  simply  in- 
evitable. 

Had  he  judged  himself  in  the  wrong;  had  he 

207 


The  Sinister  Revel 

deemed  Constance  mistaken;  had  he  continued  even 
in  his  blame  of  Lady  Asburton,  there  might  have 
been  still  an  incentive  to  readjustment.  As  it  was 
—  he  saw  himself  in  all  helplessness  but  a  phase  in 
the  great  disintegration  of  moral  force  going  stead- 
ily on  behind  the  surface  interplay  of  individual  lives. 

He  found  himself  contemplating  men  like  John 
Wellington  Schuyler  with  the  deep  sympathy  of  un- 
derstanding. And  Morgan  Bleecker,  his  father's 
friend  — 

Not  that  Craig,  in  the  formal  existence  he  and 
Constance  now  came  to  live  together,  felt  he  was  in 
any  immediate  danger  of  falling  into  the  customary 
disorders  of  the  men  of  his  class.  The  swift  per- 
ception that  had  come  to  him  that  night  in  Lili's 
room,  the  vision  that  had  driven  him  back  to  Con- 
stance, had  strangely  enough  been  lost  in  the  very 
crisis  it  had  helped  bring  about.  So  Craig  felt 
himself  in  no  imminent  danger.  It  was  simply  that 
the  wonder  and  glory  of  a  beautiful  relationship  had 
been  spoiled. 

Yet,  it  was  not  this  sense  of  hopeless  waste,  of 
fine  possibilities  marred  for  ever,  that  depressed 
Craig  the  most;  it  was  the  little  things,  the  details 
that  pointed  so  deliberately  and  so  pathetically  his 
exclusion. 

The  little  Henry  had  been  threatened  with  whoop- 
ing cough;  Craig  was  doomed  to  hover  awkwardly 
on  the  outskirts  of  all  consultations. 

Then  there  was  the  day  the  child  appeared  in  a 
208 


The  Sinister  Revel 

queer  little  something  called  an  Oliver  Twist,  diminu- 
tive trousers  buttoned  tightly  to  a  still  more  diminu- 
tive blouse.  He  had  twisted  his  face  into  an  odd 
smile  as  his  eyes  met  his  father's.  "Pants!"  he 
had  said,  and  then  chuckled  as  if  fully  aware  of  the 
absurd  figure  he  cut. 

Craig  had  snatched  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  him  again  and  again.  Poor  Craig!  He  was 
too  drunk  that  night  to  come  down  to  dinner. 

Then  Lady  Asburton  and  Constance  were  for- 
ever coming  and  going.  One  or  two  nights  in  town 
every  week!  Craig  was  simply  ignored,  left  to 
glean  what  details  he  could  from  desultory  dinner 
talks.  He  was  no  longer  given  the  satisfaction  of 
making  a  violent  scene.  An  apathetic  politeness  was 
instituted  that  overrode  every  topic  he  saw  fit  to 
throw  out  by  way  of  opposition.  Not  even  the 
safety  valve  of  a  faint  damn  or  two  was  left  him. 
His  force,  compressed,  was  working  to  a  dangerous 
ferment. 

Then  it  was  the  little  Mimi  came  again  into  his 
life,  Mimi  and  the  strange  perversity  of  the  passion 
she  aroused  in  him.  He  had  been  thrown  at  a  most 
critical  moment  back  upon  himself  and  his  turbulence. 
And  Mimi  —  well  —  Mimi  was  all  a  part  of  that 
turbulence.  Mimi  and  her  dark  eyes  with  their  eerie 
light  of  suppressed  emotions !  So  often  she  seemed 
just  a  great  mood,  his  mood !  Her  petulances,  her 
depressions,  her  inconsistencies  1 

Constance  had  planned  a  house  party,  announced 

209 


The  Sinister  Revel 

it  dispassionately  one  night  at  dinner.  "  That 
Helen  might  get  to  know  the  younger  set  better — ." 

She  had  gone  on  to  enumerate  the  guests.  Craig 
listened  indifferently  till  the  mention  of  Mimi 
brought  him  up  sharp  with  a  quick  flush.  Lady 
Asburton  had  eyed  him  curiously. 

He  found  himself  stammering  out,  "  Let's  make 
it  a  big  party.  Billy  and  Larry  —  everybody ! 
We'll  hunt." 

That  Mimi's  image  with  its  strange  intimations 
had  been  haunting  him  during  the  weeks  of  his 
unhappy  isolation  was  evidenced  in  the  perturbation 
he  now  felt  at  the  suggestion  of  her  presence.  He 
felt  a  stir  that  was  of  the  nature  of  a  protest  and 
yet  —  a  quickening  interest.  But  it  seemed  as  if 
a  crowd,  a  big  one,  would  be  the  only  thing  that  could 
make  the  party  bearable.  To  sit  at  the  table  with 
Mimi,  to  meet  her  feverish  eyes  — 

"  Ask  everybody  — "  he  kept  insisting.  And  he 
wasn't  perfectly  sure  as  he  held  out  for  numbers 
whether  he  was  seeking  to  shield  himself  in  a  furtive 
something  or  fortify  himself  against  temptation. 

Then  before  he  could  unravel  the  tangle  of  his 
feelings  the  party  was  in  full  swing.  It  had  begun 
so  innocently.  The  incidents  of  the  first  day  stood 
out  the  more  distinctly  from  the  disaster  of  subse- 
quent events. 

It  was  the  day  before  Thanksgiving  with  an  old- 
fashioned  snow  weighting  down  the  trees,  piling  into 
drifts.  A  buzz  of  excitement  pervaded  the  house  as 
210 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  young  people  stamped  in;  three,  four  or  five  at  a 
time.  The  station  wagon  plied  back  and  forth  to 
meet  the  various  trains.  There  was  much  warmth 
of  greeting;  bursts  of  laughter;  a  running  back  and 
forth  in  the  corridors  upstairs;  a  slamming  of  doors. 

"  It's  snowing !  "  was  generally  acclaimed  as  each 
group  made  entrance. 

"  I  say,  did  you  order  it  this  way,  Craig? " 
"Where's  the  baby?"  "Who's  here?"  "Are 
we  first?  "  "  Haven't  you  done  something  to  this 
hall?"  and  "Oh,  can  we  hunt  if  the  snow  keeps 
up?" 

Craig's  spirits  responded  to  the  warm  intimacy 
of  the  scene.  It  was  the  first  time  in  weeks  he 
had  felt  in  touch  with  humanity.  He  played  the 
host  all  day  with  genial  cheer.  Then  — 

Mimi,  Lili,  and  Tony  were  booked  to  arrive  on 
the  five  o'clock.  As  Craig  heard  the  station  wagon 
approaching,  he  felt  suddenly,  unaccountably,  nerv- 
ous. 

"  Hell !  "  he  said  as  he  sought  to  steady  him- 
self; then  plunging  into  the  billiard-room  dragged 
Larry  out  by  a  side  door  to  view  his  new  stallion. 

It  wasn't  till  the  others  had  all  gathered  in  the 
hall  that  night  for  dinner  that  Craig  could  bring 
himself  to  put  in  a  formal  appearance.  Simpson 
had  found  him  irritable  in  dressing.  Even  when 
dressed  he  had  delayed  to  the  length  of  half  a  ciga- 
rette. 

He  had  halted  on  the  landing,  as  he  came  down, 

211 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  get  the  scene  in  perspective.  A  gay  crowd! 
The  girls  piquant  and  lovely  in  their  gowns  of  il- 
lusive colouring,  the  men  so  slim  and  brown  and 
straight  I  All  chattering,  laughing,  eager  for  their 
fun !  Yet  —  underneath  —  vague  and  dim  yet  stu- 
pendously significant  things,  dangerous,  interfer- 
ing— 

Then  he  had  seen  Mimi  sitting  on  a  low  stool, 
her  eyes  two  dusky  shadows  in  her  tiny  face  as  she 
mused  into  the  fire.  Her  hair  was  piled  high  in 
dark  confusion  and  she  was  all  in  brilliant  orange, 
waving  slowly  a  great  orange  fan  of  ostrich.  Tony 
and  William  Manning  were  with  her:  Tony,  shy 
and  awkward;  William,  surly,  calculating,  deter- 
mined. Both  had  their  eyes  on  Mimi. 

After  that,  Craig  remembered  nothing  but  Mimi, 
always,  intensely  Mimi.  Mimi  as  she  dominated 
the  dinner  table  with  her  wild  fire  of  wit,  her  whim- 
sical perversities;  Mimi,  daring  everything  in  the 
saddle;  Mimi,  her  dark  eyes  meeting  his  across  a 
crowded  room! 

She  sang  her  little  French  songs,  charming  and 
mirthful.  She  danced  —  ah,  how  Mimi  could 
dance !  —  a  gypsy  revel,  a  crashing  czardas,  a  dainty 
Chopin  motif.  And  Craig — Craig  could  only 
stand  by  and  watch. 

They  struggled  —  yes,  they  did  struggle  and 
heroically  —  to  keep  apart,  only  to  react  with  a 
force  stronger  than  their  conscious  wills.  Unas- 
similated  motives,  perverse  curiosities  drew  them  to- 
212 


The  Sinister  Revel 

gether.  They  were  seeking  —  what  was  it  they 
were  seeking?  Something  too  formless  to  define, 
something  vague  and  irrelevant,  yet  a  constantly  re- 
curring demand.  It  was  there,  this  strange  haunt- 
ing solicitude,  to  fill  each  hour  of  the  day;  it  was 
there  with  its  dull  urgency  in  the  endless  hours  of 
the  night.  Besetting,  interrupting,  demanding  I 

Yet  when  they  were  alone  together,  moments  they 
struggled  for,  contrived,  only  their  eyes  indicated  the 
intensity  of  their  attraction.  The  words  they  stam- 
mered were  stupidly  banal. 

A  passing  flirtation!  So  Craig  sought  to  justify 
himself.  But  even  so,  it  would  have  been  far,  far 
easier  for  him  had  the  little  Mimi  been  less  un- 
protected. She  seemed  so  singularly  alone ;  her  very 
freedom  constituted  a  reproach. 

Mimi's  mother!  Craig  recalled  the  scandal  that 
had  shaken  all  Paris  some  fifteen  years  before.  He 
remembered  Tony's  round  eyes  as  they  had  dis- 
cussed the  matter  over  their  school  books,  old  Brain- 
tree  hovering  at  the  window,  pretending  not  to  hear. 

A  Viennese  lover,  and  Mr.  Poitier  had  shot  him  I 
Craig  remembered  vividly  how  the  thing  had  taken 
hold  of  him  at  the  time.  There  was  one  newspaper 
picture  in  particular, —  Mr.  Poitier,  fine-drawn,  nerv- 
ous, leaning  slightly  forward.  "  Pleading  the  great 
unwritten  law  " ;  that  had  been  the  caption. 

A  year  later  had  come  the  announcement  of  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Poitier  in  some  remote  Austrian  town. 
She  had  died  of  grief,  so  Rumour  carried.  The 

213 


The  Sinister  Revel 

scandal  had  been  revived  smartly  at  the  time,  by 
way  of  paying  tribute  to  the  dead;  then  the  Poitiers 
and  their  affairs  had  become  veiled  in  itinerant  ob- 
scurity. 

And  now  here  was  the  little  Mimi  upon  the  scene 
with  her  feverish  eyes,  her  heritage  of  high  dramatic 
moments. 

A  trivial  flirtation!  A  game!  Passer  le  temps, 
and  who  could  gainsay  him? 

All  the  while  there  was  Constance  looking  on,  the 
shadow  in  her  blue  eyes  growing  heavier  with  the 
pain  of  a  great  fear.  And  there  was  Lady  Asbur- 
ton  with  her  nod  of  confirmed  suspicion;  Tony,  hurt, 
uncomfortable ;  William  with  a  snarl  on  his  lips. 

Groups  collected  to  gossip.  The  house  party  split 
in  camps,  each  person  condemning  or  condoning  ac- 
cording to  his  own  little  light. 

Then  one  night,  it  was  the  night  of  the  hunt  ball, 
a  night  of  costumes  and  music,  a  great  crowd  and 
high  mirth,  Mimi  and  Craig  had  found  themselves  in 
a  recess  of  palms,  somewhere,  dangerously  remote. 
They  had  not  planned  it;  it  simply  happened  that 
way.  Their  casual  words  dropped  on  the  sudden; 
they  had  turned  abruptly  and  faced  each  other,  in- 
tensely aware  that  a  crisis  of  one  sort  or  another 
was  at  hand.  By  a  strange  chance  they  were  both  in 
Pierrot  costume,  a  fact  that  fostered  the  strange 
illusion  of  merged  identity.  The  eyes  of  the  one 
seemed  to  mirror  exactly  the  eyes  of  the  other, — 
turbulent,  eager,  fearful,  reluctant.  Mimi  had 
214 


The  Sinister  Revel 

smiled  bravely.  Then  everything  went  down  be- 
fore the  sweep  of  their  emotion.  Craig  had  Mimi 
in  his  arms  and  was  kissing  her,  her  shadowy  eyes, 
her  dusky  hair,  her  sensitive  lips,  again  and  again. 
They  clung  together  desperately  with  an  abandon 
that  seemed  to  make  for  the  wild  Tightness  of  it  all. 

"  Mimi  1  Mimi !  "  was  all  Craig  could  cry  to 
the  insistency  of  his  passion  and  crushed  her  to  him 
the  more  as  the  dark  eyes  closed  to  the  urgency  in 
his  own. 

Then  as  unaccountably  as  they  had  been  drawn  to- 
gether, they  fell  apart.  Mimi  had  swayed  a  little 
and  reached  for  a  chair  to  lean  on.  She  looked 
suddenly  so  tired,  so  weak,  so  helpless,  her  great 
eyes  so  tragic. 

Craig  had  a  quick  pang  of  contrition.  He  could 
only  wait,  mute  and  trembling,  to  give  her  the  sec- 
ond's respite,  to  let  her  make  of  the  scene  what  she 
would.  She  was  so  young,  for  all  her  eerie  sophis- 
tication. 

They  hung  so,  till  she  collected  herself  and  smiled 
a  queer  wan  little  smile. 

"  Le  roi  s'amuse !  "  she  said,  echoing  her  own 
words  of  that  first  night. 

"Ah  no!"  Craig  had  protested;  then  realizing 
she  wished  to  discount  the  scene  by  treating  it  flip- 
pantly, he  fell  in  with  her  intention.  He  shrugged, 
drooped,  as  if  to  indicate  his  violence  had  quite  spent 
itself. 

"  Le  roi  est  mort,"  he  said. 

215 


The  Sinister  Revel 

At  which,  in  gratitude  for  his  generosity,  she  had 
quite  unexpectedly  brightened  and  placed  a  fleeting 
kiss  on  his  lips. 

"  Vive  le  roi  1  "  she  had  said  laughingly,  but  be- 
fore he  could  catch  her  in  his  arms  again  she  had 
slipped  away  from  him  and  was  gone. 


216 


Chapter  XV 


It  was  because  Lady  Asburton  had  been  the  one 
that  next  morning  to  break  the  news  of  Mimi's  de- 
parture that  Craig  was  to  prove  so  unreasonable? 

He  had  seen  no  more  of  Mimi  after  the  scene 
in  the  conservatory;  she  seemed  to  vanish  completely 
though  the  mood  she  evoked  remained  during  the 
hours  of  revelry  that  swept  on  to  a  wakeful  morn- 
ing. 

Craig  had  risen  early,  nine  o'clock  it  was,  with  an 
immense  anticipation  of  the  day.  Any  idea  of  trag- 
edy and  disaster  that  might  have  haunted  was  soon 
dispelled  in  the  crisp  atmosphere  of  the  winter's 
morning.  It  was  the  light  note  struck  at  the  parting 
that  lingered. 

"  Vive  le  roi  I  "  He  smiled  to  himself  at  that, 
felt  the  brush  of  her  lips  on  his.  No  clumsy  af- 
fair there,  nor  mawkish  sentimentality!  Mimi  was 
so  essentially  just  Mimi,  a  bright  something  beyond 
the  acquiescence  of  daily  commonplaces. 

And  then,  then,  he  had  found  only  Lady  Asbur- 
ton in  the  breakfast  room,  who,  bringing  him  up 
short  in  his  eager  anticipation,  had  announced  that 
Mimi  had  gone.  There  was  a  note  left  to  explain 
—  a  sudden  call  from  her  father.  But  Craig  took 
into  account  nothing  but  the  cold  exultation  he  read 

217 


The  Sinister  Revel 

in  her  ladyship's  eyes  as  they  mocked  his  disappoint- 
ment. 

So  he  had  proceeded  to  get  himself  absurdly 
drunk,  but  not  content  to  stop  there  had,  by  force 
of  example  as  host,  instituted  a  regular  orgy.  Tony 
fell  in  line ;  so  did  Larry,  Carly,  Bronson,  Simpson. 
Even  William  succumbed.  Not  a  man  was  left 
sober.  The  scandal  of  it  spread  to  town;  the  house 
party  disintegrated.  Indignant  mothers  telegraphed 
summons.  West  Riding!  Good  heavens,  what 
next?  And  yet,  of  course,  a  man  of  Craig's  ques- 
tionable record  —  As  Andre  had  said,  "In  the 
ashes  live  their  wonted  fires." 

Society  argued  Lady  Asburton  the  bellows;  but 
Andre  shook  his  head. 

"  La  petite  Mimi !  "  he  said.  "  Else  why  this 
California  flight?" 

Quite  true!  There  was  the  Poitier  trip  to  be 
reckoned  with.  So  it  was  the  little  Mimi  with  her 
dangerous  eyes  who  had  stirred  in  Craig  his  old  dis- 
ordered perversities.  A  slip  of  a  girl!  Well  — 
there  was  no  telling  these  days;  scandal  seemed  no 
longer  the  matron's  prerogative. 

Lady  Asburton  and  Constance  had  withdrawn 
hastily  to  town  and  ensconced  themselves  at  the  St. 
Regis.  Gossip  as  to  a  definite  break  flared,  only  to 
flicker  out  tamely  when  Craig  a  couple  of  weeks 
later  himself  came  to  town  and  joined  quite  con- 
spicuously the  family  group.  It  was  a  fact.  Mrs. 
Anderson  Prescott  vouched  for  it;  so  did  Mrs.  Ham- 

218 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ilton  Raleigh.  The  three  could  be  seen  any  night, 
so  these  good  ladies  declared,  dining  en  famille  at 
their  hotel  or  at  Sherry's. 

Meanwhile  the  Poitiers  were  speeding  westward. 
The  realization  that  he  was  responsible  for  this 
sudden  move  was  the  thing  that  had  eventually 
brought  Craig  to  his  senses  and  curbed  his  defiance. 

Mid-channel  in  the  carouse  into  which  the  house 
party  had  resolved  itself  after  the  precipitate  de- 
parture of  the  women,  Craig  had  learned  of  the 
projected  Poitier  trip.  Drunk,  he  had  stormed  into 
town  and  presented  himself,  a  sorry  spectacle,  at 
the  Plaza.  His  one  thought  was  Mimi.  Her  dis- 
appearance at  the  very  top  moment  of  his  interest 
in  her  had  served  only  to  inflame  him. 

He  remembered  getting  somehow  to  the  Poitier 
apartment,  sullenly  determined,  blindly  regardless 
of  appearances. 

And  then  —  then  Mr.  Poitier  had  met  him,  un- 
steady, trembling,  a  wreck  of  nerves.  But  the  eyes 
were  the  same  as  in  that  old  picture  for  all  the 
strange  glaze  upon  them.  Morphine!  Craig  had 
heard  the  rumour,  but  forgotten  it.  The  truth 
brought  a  compelling  pity.  This  man,  once  so 
capable  of  splendid  sacrifice ! 

But  he  was  speaking.  He  said  little,  as  if  words 
were  a  stupendous  effort.  He  asked  simply  and  with 
all  courtesy  that  Craig  leave  Mimi  alone  —  for  a 
while,  at  least. 

By  the  light  of  that  request  Craig  read  with  a  sud- 

219 


The  Sinister  Revel 

den  sharp  contrition  the  sordidness  of  the  thing  he 
was  doing. 

He  had  managed  to  get  out,  somehow,  a  minute 
later,  overwhelmed  with  a  terrible  dismay  at  his  own 
contemptible  selfishness.  He  could  find  relief  only 
in  a  sense  of  pitying  protection  for  the  little  Mimi. 
The  little  Mimi !  His  resolutions  were  violent  ones. 

It  was  after  this  interview  Craig  had  gone  directly 
to  the  St.  Regis  and  attached  himself  to  Constance. 
The  fact  that  he  could  do  this,  be  received  without 
question,  taken  in  as  an  unexpected  dinner  guest  is 
taken  in,  is  perhaps  the  best  indication  of  the  wide 
divergence  of  their  interests. 

Craig  would  have  preferred  intensely  to  be  called 
to  account.  That  he  had  been  in  the  wrong  he 
knew.  He  saw  the  orgy  in  which  he  had  been  em- 
broiled as  a  piece  of  childish  stupidity  and  was  pre- 
pared to  admit  it.  He  would  have  gained  a  certain 
satisfaction  from  self-abasement,  relief  from  con- 
fession. But  as  it  was  —  a  polite  indifference,  a  cas- 
ual acceptance  that  chilled  all  generous  impulse! 
They  met,  the  three  of  them,  to  dine  formally  every 
night.  Craig  joined  them  at  the  theatre  or  opera 
afterwards.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  was  left  to 
sulk  at  his  Club.  No  opportunity  to  fight  things 
out,  no  chance  of  readjustment!  Never  for  one 
second  did  he  see  Constance  alone ! 

It  was  the  sort  of  relation  that  existed  for  dozens 
of  his  friends,  a  relation  recognized,  even  encour- 

220 


The  Sinister  Revel 

aged,  approved.  For  that  reason  there  seemed 
nothing  for  it,  in  the  end,  but  to  submit  dully;  the 
very  prevalence  of  the  thing  seemed  to  constitute  an 
indisputable  warrant  for  its  necessity. 

"Tout  le  monde  se  marie;  tout  le  monde 
s'ennuie."  So  Andre  had  croaked  it  once. 

"  How  detestable !  "  Craig  had  thought  at  the 
time,  but  now,  thrown  continually  back  on  his  dis- 
content, he  reflected  bitterly,  "  How  true !  " 

The  last  week  in  January  Lady  Asburton  and 
Constance  declared  for  a  month  at  West  Riding. 
Craig,  for  the  simple  reason  he  could  think  of  noth- 
ing better  to  do,  went  with  them. 

Then  the  belated  Lord  Mark  had  arrived,  Lord 
Mark  and,  by  one  of  those  freaks  of  chance,  on  the 
same  steamer  Natty  Weyburn.  Natty  had  not  par- 
ticularly relished  George  Winters'  transfer  of  him  to 
Craig.  He  remembered  Craig  at  Deauville  as  for- 
ever putting  him  in  his  place  with  an  easy  insolence 
he  could  ill  brook  in  one  so  young.  Natty  knew 
himself  a  servant  in  Craig's  eyes;  he  was  used  to 
being  something  more.  Still,  the  Van  Dam  millions 
were  not  to  be  ignored;  they  carried  a  conviction  con- 
tinental fortunes  quite  failed  of.  Natty  weighed 
it,  then  decided  for.  And  after  all,  Craig  might 
prove  more  amenable  to  suggestion  now  — 

It  was  undoubtedly  a  stroke  of  luck  for  Natty 
that  he  and  Lord  Mark  should  book  on  the  same 
steamer.  He  had  smiled  his  obsequious  smile  at 

221 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  discovery,  and  then  proceeded  to  stack  his  cards 
with  an  eye  to  his  lordship's  well-known  little  weak- 
nesses. 

It  was  for  Lord  Mark  to  take  the  initiative  in 
a  patronizing  "Oh  —  er  —  Weyburn,  isn't  it?" 
This,  the  first  night  after  dinner! 

A  casual  discussion  of  Longchamps  followed,  all 
by  way  of  preliminary,  as  Natty  too  surely  gauged, 
to  an  "  Oh,  I  say,  is  she  with  you?  "  and  a  stupid 
stare  in  the  direction  of  an  auburn-haired  fair  one 
hovering  at  innocent  range. 

"  Hum.  Not  exactly  with  me.  Want  to  meet 
her?" 

Lord  Mark  was  charmed;  so  was  the  lady,  Cecily 
Pennell  she  called  herself. 

"  I've  seen  you  before."  Lord  Mark  always 
shone  in  preliminaries. 

She  confessed  to  the  footlights. 

"  How  awfully  jolly !  "  said  his  lordship. 

The  lady  showed  herself  communicative,  almost, 
one  might  say,  ebulliently  so.  She  was  on  her  way 
to  visit  a  friend,  Flora  Hardy.  Did  he  know  Flora  ? 
The  most  beautiful  woman  on  the  American  stage. 
Oh,  dear  me,  his  lordship  must  certainly  meet  Flora. 
A  perfect  back!  But  what  were  his  lordship's 
plans?  And  how  long  had  he  known  Natty? 
Natty  was  a  dear.  So  nice  to  run  into  some  one  on 
board  you  knew.  There  was  something  so  cosy  and 
intimate  about  shipboard  acquaintance  — 

So  it  proved.     When  his  lordship  arrived  in  New 

222 


The  Sinister  Revel 

York,  he  and  Natty  were  boon  companions,  not  to 
mention  the  lady,  who  had  done  her  utmost  in  the 
promotion  of  the  general  cheer.  Yes,  it  had  been 
cosy.  As  to  the  details  —  Lord  Mark  could  hardly 
wait  to  buttonhole  his  young  relative  with  a  salacious 
wink  his  first  night  at  West  Riding. 

"  You  see,  old  man,  she  — " 

Craig's  reception  of  the  anecdote  was  not  at  all 
what  his  lordship  expected.  There  was  even  an 
air  of  disapproval  conveyed,  quite  incompatible  with 
his  preconceived  notion  of  the  Van  Dam  code.  A 
sudden  moral  simoom  1  But  no,  it  couldn't  be  I 
Natty's  presence  was  sufficient  warrant  for  that. 
Diffident,  by  gad! 

It  was  for  Lord  Mark  then,  in  all  charity,  to  put 
Craig  at  his  ease.  The  immediate  method  em- 
ployed was  to  leave  him  entirely  alone  while  his 
lordship  spent  his  time  in  the  stable  regions.  Nat- 
ty's quarters  over  the  tan-bark  ring  proved  of  far 
more  potent  attraction  than  the  big  house.  There 
were  trips  to  town  with  Natty,  trips  to  neighbouring 
centres.  Craig  looked  on,  silent,  disapproving,  but 
what  was  there  to  do?  For  Natty  in  dealing  with 
him  was  open  to  no  criticism  whatever.  He  man- 
aged to  strike  just  the  neatest  attitude  of  genteel 
servility,  a  sort  of  well-bred  deference.  It  was: 
"  Will  you  come  out  and  have  a  look  at  the  new 
horse,  sir?"  with  just  the  right  touch  of  the  hat. 
Or  "  The  new  groom's  no  good,  sir.  Would  it  be 
possible — "  The  nicest  shading  of  tentative  sug- 

223 


The  Sinister  Revel 

gestion!  Craig  could  not  help  being  grateful  to 
him  for  not  pressing  an  advantage  Lord  Mark's 
latitude  made  possible. 

"  The  man  has  a  level  head,"  Craig  said  to  him- 
self again  and  again.  "  Thank  God  for  that!  " 

Lady  Asburton,  also,  seemed  to  recognize  some- 
thing as  due  to  Weyburn.  She  became  comfortably 
tolerant,  even  encouraging  the  intimacy  between  him 
and  Lord  Mark.  Constance,  however,  still  pre- 
served her  rigour  of  attitude,  as  if  her  ladyship's 
incipient  leniency  threw  the  greater  responsibility 
on  her.  Though  gracious  in  her  efforts  to  make 
Lord  Mark  feel  at  home,  on  the  point  of  the  trainer 
she  was  unyielding.  She  so  distinctly  classed  him. 
She  refused  pointblank  to  patronize  the  stables, 
gave  up  her  riding.  She  found  the  little  Henry  and 
his  nurse  lingering  outside  the  ring  one  day;  she 
began  immediately,  close  lipped  and  secretive,  to  ne- 
gotiate for  a  town  house. 

Even  Lord  Mark,  for  all  his  stupidity,  sensed  her 
opposition  to  Natty,  sought  to  overcome  it  in  subtle 
dinner  converse.  Natty  became,  to  the  awkward- 
ness of  all  concerned  excepting  his  lordship,  an  ever 
recurrent  theme.  Extravagant  praise  was  in  or- 
der— 

"  Natty  is  so  —  so  —  you  know  —  good  hearted. 
And  by  Jove,  generous,  too !  " 

Craig  was  to  discover  more  in  regard  to  that  gen- 
erosity.    Natty  was   lending   his   lordship   money. 
He  took  occasion  to  interfere. 
224 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Oh,  if  you  look  at  it  that  way,  of  course  —  of 
course !  " 

His  lordship  was  very  bland.  "  Yes,  after  this 
I'll  come  to  you.  A  little  short  just  for  the  present 
you  understand  —  A  horse,  excellent  horse,  I  backed 
at  Vichy  this  fall  — " 

The  end  of  February  they  all  moved  to  town  on 
Constance's  initiative.  She  had  leased  a  house  on 
her  own  responsibility,  a  fact  that  made  Craig  feel 
more  than  ever  a  negligible  quantity  in  the  equation 
of  her  existence. 

The  season,  and  it  proved  a  gay  one  that  year,  was 
in  full  swing.  Lady  Asburton  was  generally  feted; 
she  and  Constance  were  continually  dressing,  going 
out  to  this  or  that.  Craig  tried  to  do  the  decent 
thing,  too,  which  seemed  to  consist  of  rushing  madly 
about  in  motors,  paying  unsatisfactory  visits,  dining 
brilliantly,  going  to  the  theatre,  meeting  in  lobbies. 
He  dropped  into  half  a  dozen  places  a  night,  seemed 
ever  in  a  state  of  going  on  somewhere  else.  He 
drifted  into  several  flirtations  that  meant  nothing 
to  him.  All  forced,  artificially  stimulated  I  There 
was  Mrs.  Tim  Watson,  a  pretty,  pretentious  little 
creature.  When  Craig  discovered  she  considered  a 
liaison  imminent  he  chucked  it  all  in  disgust. 

Then  there  were  the  debutantes.  They  sought 
him  out  with  a  furtive  curiosity  that  argued  illicit 
dreams.  And  even  the  older  women,  those  he  had 
always  deferred  to  as  to  his  mother  — 

Yes,  he  was  a  target.  That  realization  forced 

225 


The  Sinister  Revel 

itself  eventually.  How  could  it  not?  The  reaction 
was  inevitable.  He  had  turned  about  in  exaspera- 
tion and  thrown  his  lot  in  with  Lord  Mark,  who, 
having  evaded  every  social  demand  from  the  be- 
ginning, had  put  the  weeks  to  good  advantage  in 
the  city's  great  half-world. 

There  was  an  auction  one  night  at  the  Horse  Ex- 
change, a  dinner  afterwards.  Craig  had  sullenly 
suffered  himself  to  be  included.  It  was  exactly  the 
sort  of  thing  into  which  George  had  initiated  him 
on  the  Continent;  of  a  certain  cheap  brilliancy,  vul- 
garized by  the  most  intolerable  interpretation  of  re- 
lationship. Craig  knew  most  of  the  men,  all  of 
indifferent  age  and  reputation.  The  women  were 
exactly  what  he  expected,  Cecily  and  the  others  of 
her  kind.  Lord  Mark  was  obviously  in  pursuit  of 
the  Hardy  woman.  Blonde,  of  a  plastic  beauty,  she 
was  lovely  to  look  at.  But  stupid,  God,  how  stupid ! 
Craig  could  find  nothing  to  say  to  her.  She  had  eyes 
like  a  great  dumb  animal. 

There  were  dozens  of  women  and  girls  present 
at  those  parties  that  winter,  Broadway's  most  "  fas- 
cinating sirens."  Craig  took  them  all  like  passing 
figures  in  a  gaudy  pageant.  They  touched  him  no 
more  than  the  masques  in  any  Mi-careme  festivity. 
He  usually  looked  in  on  an  affair,  lingered  with  care- 
less indifference  and  then  went  home.  Anything  to 
pass  the  time,  to  divert  him  — 

And  at  the  heart  of  it  all  was  the  secret  of  his 
226 


The  Sinister  Revel 

passion  for  Mimi,  thrusting  relentlessly  into  his 
every  thought,  colouring  his  every  mood.  It  was 
this  with  its  haunting  insistency  that  drove  him  on 
from  one  thing  to  another.  He  was  striving  — 
what  was  he  striving  for  in  this  senseless  round  of 
activities?  Those  weeks  were  full  of  the  quality  of 
time  and  energy  wasted,  of  insecure  resolutions. 
Mimi !  It  could  not  be ;  it  must  not  be  ! 

The  months  passed.  Rumour  drifted  that  Wil- 
liam Manning  had  attached  himself  to  the  Poitier 
party;  the  conclusion  seemed  obvious.  It  was  with  a 
quick  stab  of  pain,  a  confused  protest  that  Craig  had 
heard  the  news.  Then  with  the  Poitiers  suddenly 
back  in  town,  he  found  himself  —  his  desire  quick- 
ened, unreasoning,  desperate  —  at  the  end  of  his 
renunciations. 


227 


Chapter  XVI 

Society,  as  it  came  to  watch  the  affair  that  spring, 
interpreted  it  in  the  usual  terms  of  conventional  in- 
trigue. Mimi  and  Craig  became  a  public  scandal. 

Of  course  Craig  should  have  waited  till  Mimi  was 
married.  Rather  hard  luck  for  Jean  Poitier  1  Was 
William  still  in  the  running?  And  how  did  Conny 
take  it? 

If  any  one  had  put  in  a  claim  for  the  innocence  of 
the  two  young  people  involved,  it  would  have  been 
greeted  as  an  hilarious  sally.  For  had  they  not  been 
discovered,  the  incorrigible  ones,  riding  daily  in 
the  Park,  taking  tea  a  deux  at  indiscriminate  places? 

They  danced  the  length  of  many  a  program  to- 
gether at  the  different  balls.  Disgraceful,  quite ! 

"  And  if  we  all  know  so  much  — "  Mrs.  Tim  Wat- 
son was  unusually  emphatic  for  her  — "  just  fancy 
what  we  don't  know!  " 

Before  the  profundity  of  logic  like  this,  argument 
is  helpless.  The  affair  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
the  accepted  liaison. 

However,  in  spite  of  everything  that  was  said  and 
delicately  left  unsaid,  in  spite  of  evidence  most  in- 
criminating, Mimi  and  Craig  were  not  lovers. 

They  had  been  so  intensely  glad  to  get  back  to  each 
other,  yet  singularly  shy  and  timid  in  the  expression 
228 


The  Sinister  Revel 

of  their  feelings.  A  snatched  embrace,  a  capricious 
caress,  an  endearment  but  faintly  murmured  — 

They  said  little  that  was  worth  saying;  the  haunt- 
ing awareness  of  each  other's  presence  was  sufficient. 

They  met  on  impulse,  yet  their  impulse  had  in  it  a 
certain  necessity.  They  had  no  idea  they  were  con- 
spicuous, that  people  were  talking.  They  found 
themselves  included  in  the  same  week-end  parties. 
They  were  unaccountably  confronted  with  each  other 
on  yachts  or  at  mountain  camps.  They  accepted  it 
all  simply  with  no  realization  they  had  come  to  be 
looked  upon  as  one  of  those  pairs  of  illicitly  cor- 
related figures  Society  invites  together. 

Theirs  was  a  passion  illusive  for  all  its  urgency. 
The  tensest  scene  was  apt  to  end  in  a  light  jest. 
Mimi  would  laughingly  turn  away  to  arrange  her 
tumbled  locks ;  Craig  would  stoop  to  pick  up  a  fallen 
hairpin.  They  were  eager  yet  reluctant,  their  de- 
sire strangely  perverse.  Small  wonder  Society  did 
not  understand;  Mimi  and  Craig  themselves  had 
only  a  dazed  perplexity  at  their  predicament. 

Then  suddenly  the  realization  was  started  that 
scandal  was  afoot  against  them,  had  been  for  some 
time.  It  came  to  Craig  at  his  Club.  Lili  took 
Mimi  aside. 

"  Why  can't  you  be  a  little  more  careful,  dear?  " 
she  had  asked. 

It  was  of  Mimi's  peculiar  evasiveness  that  she 
should  run  away  after  that.  She  and  her  father 
went  to  a  Camp  in  the  Adirondacks  where  she  wrote 

229 


The  Sinister  Revel 

• 

Craig  of  doing  healthy  out-of-door  things,  walking, 
fishing. 

"  To  exorcise  the  demon  of  unrest,"  she  had  said. 
"  No,  I'm  not  coming  to  Newport.  The  Ander- 
son Prescotts'  for  September  — " 

It  was  only  Mimi's  way  of  asking  for  time. 
What  could  he  do?  The  very  indirection  of  her 
plea  gave  it  the  greater  potency. 

Craig  was  to  discover  during  the  months  that 
followed  that  Mimi  absent  was  more  tormenting 
than  Mimi  present.  Always  that  haunting  solici- 
tude !  The  end  of  the  summer  found  him  reckless, 
defiant.  He  had  told  himself  in  the  beginning  he 
must  think.  But  he  could  not  think;  he  would  not 
think.  He  shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  Constance 
must  know.  As  for  that,  however,  he  didn't  care  if 
she  did.  Damn  it  all,  she'd  closed  her  door  on  him. 
It  was  as  if,  he  tried  to  reason,  she  no  longer  existed 
for  him.  He  met  her,  as  he  met  Lady  Asburton, 
indifferently.  They  lived  under  the  same  roof;  that 
seemed  to  constitute  the  only  bond. 

There  were  times  when  he  was  aware  of  nothing 
but  his  intense  need  of  Mimi.  The  interpretation 
Society  had  put  upon  their  relation  was  to  prove  a 
dangerous  one  for  him  through  its  very  power  of 
suggestion. 

"  The  Anderson  Prescotts'  in  September." 
Meanwhile  July  and  August  had  to  be  covered. 

There  was  the  usual  round  of  summer  things,  with 
230 


The  Sinister  Revel 

here  and  there  a  dip,  harmless  enough,  into  Lord 
Mark's  world.  His  lardship's  "  set  "  had  strangely 
enough  migrated  complete  to  Narragansett.  The 
Hardy  woman  had  taken  a  cottage  there.  Cecily 
Pennell  was  at  a  neighbouring  hotel;  so  was  Lorraine 
Comstock.  They  became  at  once  the  focal  point 
of  interest  at  polo,  on  the  beach.  Cecily's  red  hair, 
Flora's  back,  Lorraine's  dark  eyes, —  all  engrossing 
topics  to  the  masculine  world,  gathered  there  for 
just  such  commendable  discussion.  Speculation  ran 
rife.  Lord  Mark  —  George  Winters  —  Carly 
Andrews!  A  tremendous  amount  of  money  in- 
volved somewhere !  Then  rumour  had  it  The  Idler 
was  in,  that  long  white  yacht  just  over  there.  Ah  1 
The  Idler!  Field  glasses  were  plied  assiduously 
from  hotel  piazzas,  from  the  beach  pavilion.  It 
was  all  quite  simple  of  explanation  after  that. 
Come  to  think  of  it,  nothing  but  the  Van  Dam  mil- 
lions could  have  hushed  up  that  disgraceful  dinner 
during  Yacht  Club  week  that  had  brought  even  Nar- 
ragansett a  startled  gasp. 

In  reality,  however,  Craig  suffered  himself  to  be 
dragged  into  Narragansett  activities  very  little.  To 
be  sure  it  was  his  money  that  was  floating  the  party, 
but  the  moral  responsibility  was  Lord  Mark's. 
Since  Craig's  tentative  suggestion  that  his  lordship 
come  to  him  when  in  need,  much  money  had  changed 
hands.  Craig  had  the  novel  experience  of  being 
entertained,  when  he  went  to  the  Pier,  quite  lavishly 

231 


The  Sinister  Revel 

at  his  own  expense.  It  was  rather  amusing,  but  the 
humour  of  the  situation  seemed  quite  lost  on  his 
lordship.  Flora  Hardy,  likewise,  seemed  unaware 
of  any  incongruity  in  the  arrangement.  Did  she, 
by  any  chance,  think  his  lordship  a  Croesus? 

Then  came  the  astounding  revelation  direct  from 
Lord  Mark  himself,  that  for  all  the  money  squan- 
dered on  the  lady's  entertainment  she  remained  ob- 
durate to  his  every  advance. 

"  It's  all  damned  nonsense,"  Lord  Mark  had  said 
fretfully.  "  I'm  as  good  as  another." 

Craig  had  thought  so,  too,  when  it  came  to  a 
woman  of  the  Hardy  type. 

He  felt  in  a  way  they  had  both  been  tricked  and 
by  a  "  cow  of  a  woman."  So  he  took  occasion  to 
mention  the  subject  to  Natty. 

"  No,  his  lordship  will  never  make  it,"  Natty  had 
responded,  as  he  met  Craig's  eyes  quite  frankly. 

"  Why  not?  "  Craig  demanded. 

"  She's  out  for  big  game,"  Natty  had  said,  a  world 
of  significance  in  his  quiet  tone. 

Craig  flushed  hotly.  After  that  he  kept  away 
from  the  Pier. 

The  first  of  August  he  went  to  Tuxedo  for  a 
couple  of  weeks  with  Billy  Severn.  Then  a  jaunt 
in  Canada  by  himself!  September!  Thank  God, 
the  summer  was  over.  With  a  quickened  impulse, 
a  confused  anticipation,  he  had  returned  to  New 
York.  A  wire  from  Colby  Beach  awaited  him  at 
his  Club.  "  Stag  party  —  Berkshires  — r-  Come  any 
232 


The  Sinister  Revel 

time  " —     The  thing  was  well  staged.     Colby  and 
the  Anderson  Prescotts  were  neighbours. 

Mrs.  Anderson  Prescott's  house  party  at  Lenox 
was  a  brilliant  one.  Mrs.  Prescott  at  no  time  was 
hampered  with  many  ideas  of  convention.  When 
playing  the  role  of  hostess  she  was  hampered  by  none 
at  all,  a  fact  which  worked  out  very  much  to  the 
pleasure  of  those  she  gathered  together.  She  fur- 
nished the  setting,  a  most  charming  one,  and  every 
facility  for  enjoyment;  the  guests  followed  their  own 
vagaries. 

Mimi  was  a  great  favourite  of  Mrs.  Prescott's. 
There  was  that  in  her  ready  zest  of  amusement,  in 
her  quick  wit  and  free  thinking  that  gave,  as  Mrs. 
Prescott  confided  to  her  husband,  "  a  continental  air 
to  things." 

"  I've  asked  her  for  the  whole  of  September," 
Mrs.  Prescott  had  announced.  At  which  Andy  had 
disconcertingly  exclaimed: 

"How  about  Craig?" 

Now  Mrs.  Prescott  liked  Craig.  Everybody  did; 
that  is,  all  the  women.  But  she  had  watched  his  af- 
fair with  Mimi  apprehensively.  It  was  too  precar- 
ious a  matter  for  a  young  girl,  with  no  money  to 
speak  of  and  a  father  apt  to  die  any  moment,  to  get 
herself  entangled  with  a  man  as  notorious  as  Craig. 

Mrs.  Prescott,  it  must  be  understood,  was  not  nar- 
row; if  she  was  condemning  the  affair  it  was  purely 
and  simply  on  an  economic  basis.  She  considered  it 

233 


The  Sinister  Revel 

her  mission  for  the  present  to  bring  Mimi  to  a  proper 
appreciation  of  her  situation.  Matrimony  as  a  pro- 
tection —  Mrs.  Prescott  felt  herself  in  a  position  to 
do  the  theme  justice. 

The  trend  of  the  lady's  thoughts  may  be  guessed 
from  a  little  exchange  with  her  husband  a  few  days 
before  Mimi's  arrival. 

"  About  how  much  is  William  Manning  worth?  " 
she  had  asked  pensively. 

"  Two  or  three  million !  "  answered  her  spouse. 
"  Why?  Planning  to  make  a  touch-down?  " 

Andy  could  be  so  coarse  at  times. 

Mrs.  Prescott  dashed  off  a  charming  little  note  to 
William.  Would  he  join  them?  They  were  going 
to  hunt  a  little.  Some  dear  girls !  Madeleine 
Kemp  and  Nina  Wilcox,  Mimi  — 

Mimi  arrived  a  couple  of  weeks  before  the  others. 
It  was  surprising  how  much  she  came  to  learn  in  a 
short  time  of  Craig's  summer  escapades. 

"  That  red-haired  Cecily  creature !  The  Eng- 
lish actress,  you  know.  What  was  it,  Andy,  you 
heard  at  the  Club  last  week?  Something  disgrace- 
ful as  I  remember.  Oh,  yes  —  about  the  bathing 
party  — " 

And 

"  Of  course  Craig's  backing  that  whole  gang  at 
the  Pier.  As  far  as  that  goes,  though,  I  can  forgive 
a  man  a  mistress  or  two,  but  they  do  say  Mrs.  Tim 
Watson,  etc.,  etc. — " 

When  William  arrived  he  found  a  gentler  Mimi 
234 


The  Sinister  Revel 

than  he  expected,  seemingly  less  defiant,  of  a  more 
yielding  grace.  Mrs.  Prescott  was  delighted  at  the 
turn  of  affairs;  her  scheme  seemed  near  fruition. 

"A  week  or  two  more!"  she  reflected.  Then 
with  a  sigh,  "  But  I  won't  feel  quite  easy  till  they're 
married.  Mimi  is  so  —  so  — "  She  could  only  re- 
sort to  her  old  expression  "  so  continental." 

Then  one  morning  had  come  a  note  for  Mrs. 
Prescott  from  Colby. 

"  Incorrigible  as  ever !  "  she  exclaimed  as  she 
read: 

"  Know,  dear  neighbour,  we  are  hunting  tomor- 
row. Respectably  so  —  I  swear  it  —  and  solicit 
your  presence.  Come  and  bring  the  young  charges." 

"  Respectably  so!  "  murmured  Madeleine  Kemp. 
"  Hardly  an  inducement  from  Colby's  viewpoint." 

"  He's  putting  a  stag  party  on  later  in  the  week," 
volunteered  Jack  Harding.  "  All  values  are  rela- 
tive — " 

Marie  Wainwright  wanted  to  see  Colby's  new 
lodge  and  declared  for  going. 

Mrs.  Prescott  took  a  vote  with  the  result  that 
two  o'clock  saw  half  a  dozen  of  the  party  galloping 
off  to  the  meet.  William  had  demurred,  but  Mimi 
insisted  a  cross-country  run  was  the  only  solution 
to  her  morning's  mood. 

"  I  feel  so  —  so  suppressed  today!  "  she  had  said 
almost  plaintively,  at  which  even  William  had  to 
smile  grimly. 

There   were   gathered   at   Colby's  new   hunting 

235 


The  Sinister  Revel 

lodge  some  twenty  men  and  women.  The  brilliant 
colour  of  the  men's  coats  flashed  in  and  out  of  the 
trees.  There  was  a  mingling  of  light  laughter  with 
the  neighing  of  the  restive  horses  and  the  barking 
of  the  dogs. 

As  Mimi  held  her  horse  in  check  and  responded 
to  the  banter  of  her  host,  there  appeared  in  a  clear- 
ing on  a  slight  rise  of  ground  another  horseman. 
The  careless  droop  of  the  shoulders,  the  ease  of 
gesture  — 

Mimi  gave  a  quick  start,  even  as  Colby  quite 
broadly  laughed  at  her. 

"  Young  Lochinvar  has  come  out  of  the  west  — " 
he  joked  and  then  cantered  off  to  give  a  few  last  di- 
rections. Several  other  belated  ones  appeared. 

"  Train's  just  in,"  Bronson  Todd  was  explaining 
at  large.  The  round  of  greetings  was  somewhat 
hurried  as  the  aniseed  had  already  been  trailed  and 
the  dogs  were  straining  at  their  leashes.  Mimi 
and  Craig  avoided  even  a  casual  exchange  of  for- 
malities. 

Then  they  were  off.  The  dogs  were  released 
with  yelps  and  a  headlong  rush.  The  horses 
plunged  after  them.  It  was  a  glorious  fall  day  with 
just  enough  breeze  to  whip  the  blood  into  action. 
Over  ditch  and  hedge  they  dashed,  crashing  through 
the  underbrush  of  the  wooded  lanes,  out  over  the 
open  expanses. 

Mimi  was  conscious  of  the  whole  thing  but 
vaguely.  She  plunged  on  and  on.  At  first  William 

236 


The  Sinister  Revel 

was  with  her.  Then  she  realized  she  had  out- 
stripped him,  that  it  was  Colby  now  straining  over 
his  horse's  neck  to  keep  up  with  her.  After  that 
she  was  aware  only  of  a  blur  of  faces,  although  that 
of  Seward  Ross  stood  out  more  plainly  than  the 
others.  She  had  aroused  herself  to  express  a  faint 
surprise  at  his  presence. 

"  I  thought  you  were  fishing  in  Alaska,"  she  had 
said.  His  answer  was  lost  in  the  fresh  crisp  air. 

Then  she  was  alone  on  an  open  stretch,  until  sud- 
denly a  shadow  loomed  beside  her.  She  knew  it  was 
Craig,  but  did  not  look  around,  only  strained  her- 
self to  keener  efforts. 

There  was  a  stiff  hedge  at  the  end  of  the  open. 
The  two  rode  at  it  almost  wildly.  The  horses  rose 
together,  cleared  it  with  a  desperate  heave.  Then 
even  as  the  animals  were  struggling  for  a  steady 
foothold,  Mimi  and  Craig  slipped  from  their  saddles 
to  the  ground.  A  bright  joyous  look  of  under- 
standing and  then  they  were  in  each  other's  arms ! 

All  about  them  was  the  cool  green  of  the  country 
lane. 

"  Mimi,  Mimi !  "  was  all  Craig  could  say  with 
that  intense  sense  of  a  happiness  recovered.  She 
closed  her  eyes  with  a  sigh  and  yielded  the  more  to 
his  kisses. 

"  It  has  been  so  long!  "  he  protested,  "  so  long!  " 

She  smiled  her  strange  little  smile. 

"  Yes,"  she  said.     "  Yes." 

He  kissed  her  more  insistently. 

237 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Mimi !  "  he  had  managed  to  stammer  at  last, 
"If  —  if  only— " 

"  If  only  what?  "  she  murmured  to  his  pause  and 
opened  her  deep  eyes  quite  steadily  to  the  light  in 
his.  Then  again  with  her  odd  tragic  smile,  "  What 
does  anything  matter  but  just  this  — " 

He  had  drawn  her  to  him  at  that  with  a  sharper  in- 
tensity. But  even  as  he  did  so,  there  sounded  close 
by,  clearly  distinct,  the  call  of  the  hunting  horn. 
The  notes  cut  in  on  their  consciousness.  They  fell 
apart  as  the  pounding  of  hoofs  bore  down  upon  them 
from  the  farther  end  of  the  lane. 

"  Tomorrow!  "  Craig  had  said. 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  cried  Mimi. 

"  The  old  hunting  lodge  —  at  three." 

"  Yes." 

The  two  had  made  their  saddles  just  as  the  rest  of 
the  party  broke  upon  them  with  much  noise  and 
commotion. 

William  looked  quickly  from  one  to  the  other. 
So  did  Colby.  Several  of  the  women  exchanged 
glances. 

"  Confounded  dogs  lost  the  scent,  turned  on  their 
own  trail  — "  Colby  was  voluble.  "  Nice  run,  just 
the  same.  Carly  took  a  nasty  cropper,  went  home. 
Come  on,  Mimi,  I'll  race  you  to  the  lodge." 

William  and  Craig  rode  back  slowly  side  by  side, 
following  the  others,  who  scattered  into  groups. 
The  two  presented  a  signal  contrast.  Inhibitions 
controlled  the  one,  impulses  the  other;  yet  for  the 

238 


The  Sinister  Revel 

moment  Mimi's  peculiar  fascination  held  them  both. 
There  was  much  they  might  have  said  to  each  other 
to  mutual  advantage.  As  it  was,  however: 

"  Stunning  weather!  "  Craig  had  brought  out. 

William  was  more  conservative,  would  not  com- 
mit himself.  He  perused  the  heavens  to  the  dis- 
covery of  clouds. 

"  There's  going  to  be  a  storm,"  he  said. 

Craig  had  the  clouds  pointed  out  to  him. 

"  Jove,  I  should  say  so.     It's  blowing  up,  too!  " 

The  weather  disposed  of  satisfactorily,  they  rode 
the  rest  of  the  way  in  silence. 

When  they  reached  the  lodge  they  found  Colby 
pleading  with  Mimi. 

"  But  the  supper's  the  best  part  of  the  hunt,  and 
we  want  you  to  dance  for  us  — " 

Mimi  showed  herself  obdurate.  "  No,"  she  said, 
"  I'm  tired.  The  others  will  stay." 

She  avoided  Craig's  eyes  almost  furtively  as  he 
cantered  into  the  circle. 

"  I'll  take  Mimi  home,"  William  put  in. 

Mimi  glanced  at  his  determined  face.  Bronson 
had  interposed  a  remark  to  the  effect  she'd  better 
stay,  as  in  his  opinion  it  was  going  to  storm.  Mimi 
found  her  inspiration. 

"Storm!"  she  exclaimed,  "storm!  Ah,  then 
we'll  have  to  make  a  run  for  it,  William.  Adieu, 
everybody,"  and  with  a  quick  laugh  and  a  wave  of 
her  riding  crop  she  was  off. 

There  were  only  six  or  seven  at  dinner  that  night, 

239 


The  Sinister  Revel 

so  Mrs.  Prescott  was  able  to  concentrate  on  each 
in  turn.  She  found  William  unpleasantly  sullen, 
Mimi  erratic  of  response.  Something  undoubtedly 
had  happened  to  strain  a  relation  hitherto  all 
harmonious. 

Mimi's  stray  reference  to  Carly's  cropper  brought 
Mrs.  Prescott  a  glimmer  of  light.  If  Carly  was  on 
hand,  an  even  chance  Craig  was,  too;  an  accident 
quite  out  of  the  excellent  lady's  calculation.  Now 
Mrs.  Prescott  knew  something  of  youth's  whimsies, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  charm  of  men  like  Craig.  One 
thing  was  perfectly  clear  —  prompt  action  was  called 
for  if  he  was  lingering  in  the  neighbourhood. 

So  after  dinner  Mrs.  Prescott  tried  to  incite  her 
two  young  charges  to  billiards.  This  device  fail- 
ing, she  lured  them  to  the  terrace  and  then  promptly 
deserted. 

It  was  one  of  those  strange  sinister  nights  that 
come  at  times  of  equinox.  Heavy  clouds  swept 
across  the  heavens;  the  air  seemed  fraught  with 
forebodings  and  depressions.  Mimi  shivered  invol- 
untarily as  she  looked  up  into  the  rush  of  blackness 
that  appeared  denser  for  the  fitful  light  of  a  moon 
struggling  in  its  depths.  Tomorrow  would  un- 
doubtedly be  stormy. 

She  had  roused  herself  at  last  with  a  supreme  ef- 
fort to  strike  a  bantering  note.     In  that  way  only 
could  she  hope  to  escape  the  scene  that  had  been 
impending  so  long. 
240 


The  Sinister  Revel 

« 

"  It  wasn't  done  very  deftly,  was  it?"  she  had 
asked. 

"What?  "said  William. 

"  Just  this  — "  Mimi  smiled.  "  You  and  I  and 
the  moonlight !  Mrs.  Prescott — " 

"  Oh !  "     William  showed  his  comprehension. 

"  You  didn't  think  /  was  the  strategist,  did  you?  " 
Mimi  continued  and  her  laugh  rang  out  genuinely 
now. 

This  had  wrested  from  William  a  smile. 

"  Well  then,  in  justice  to  our  hostess's  plan  — " 
he  began. 

"  I  hate  plans,"  Mimi  had  flashed. 

"  You  prefer  impulses." 

"  Certainly." 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  quietly. 

"  I  think,  William,"  Mimi  had  brought  out  at  last, 
"  you'd  have  a  better  chance  if  you  proposed  some- 
time when  I  didn't  expect  it." 

She  thought  he  would  submit  with  his  usual  grim- 
ness.  Instead,  however,  victim  of  a  sudden  flare 
of  anger,  he  had  seized  her  roughly  by  the  arm  as 
she  turned  away  from  him. 

"  Mimi !  "  he  cried.     "  It's  —  it's  Craig!  " 

At  that  she  turned  full  upon  him  the  quickened 
light  of  her  strange  eyes. 

"  Yes !  "  she  said  softly.     "  Yes,  it's  Craig !  " 

There  was  a  sudden  drop  of  the  wind  and  a  great 
stillness.  Then  the  patter  of  the  rain  on  the  trees 

241 


The  Sinister  Revel 

swept  nearer  and  nearer.  A  few  large  drops  fell 
on  Mimi's  flushed  face  as  she  raised  it  in  defiance. 

William  could  not  stand  that  light  in  her  eyes. 
He  let  her  go  and  she  turned  to  the  approaching 
storm. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful?"  she  exclaimed  and  put 
out  both  her  hands  like  a  child  to  get  the  feel  of 
the  rain. 

But  William  was  already  at  the  door. 

"  We'd  better  go  in,"  he  said  curtly.  "  Come, 
you'll  get  cold." 

Mimi  submitted  with  a  sigh  and  the  two  passed 
into  the  French  window. 

"  You'll  have  to  take  her  unawares,"  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott  had  decided  as  late  that  night  she  forced  William 
to  consultation.  "  But  I  haven't  a  doubt  you'll  win 
out." 

William's  only  answer  was  to  gloom  for  a  while 
into  the  fire,  but  the  relentlessness  of  purpose  in 
his  grey  eyes  made  for  the  firmest  support  of  his 
hostess's  conviction. 


242 


Chapter  XVII 


It  was  a  wild  night.  Mimi  lay  awake  staring  into 
the  darkness.  Her  surrender  to  Craig  was  not  a 
surprise.  The  summer  months  had  forced  the  con- 
viction with  her,  too,  that  the  thing  was  inevitable. 
For  six  months  she  had  been  trying  to  bring  her- 
self to  marry  William.  Not  to  protect  herself 
in  an  affair;  to  protect  herself  against.  For  Mimi, 
at  first,  with  her  tragic  heritage,  was  full  of  strange 
fears  and  apprehensions.  Her  father's  suffering  in 
itself  constituted  a  great  reproach.  But  in  the  end 
everything  that  was  reckless  and  defiant  in  her  na- 
ture had  risen  to  decry  the  ignoble  compromise  of 
a  marriage  of  convenience.  A  compact  of  insinceri- 
ties and  accommodations  I  Her  passion  had  as- 
serted itself  in  contrast  as  a  glorious  freedom.  To 
love,  if  only  for  a  little  while  —  And  always,  every 
minute,  the  haunting  image  of  Craig  with  his  dark 
eyes  and  careless  mouth! 

It  was  for  the  reason  that  she  had  decided  defi- 
nitely against  William's  suit  that  she  could  bring 
herself  these  last  few  weeks  to  be  so  kind  to  him. 
Yet,  she  was  afraid  of  William.  He  seemed  at 
times  the  harsh  impersonation  of  that  very  law  and 
order  she  was  seeking  to  defy.  Life  with  him  would 

243 


The  Sinister  Revel 

have  meant  the  pitiless  crushing  out  of  everything 
warm  and  sentient  in  her  nature.  It  was  because 
he  had  seemed  so  implacable  as  he  watched  her  on 
the  terrace  that  she  had  declared  so  openly  for 
Craig.  "  Yes,  it  is  Craig!  "  she  had  said. 

So  she  lay  in  the  darkness  and  thought.  The 
scene  in  the  lane  was  ever  vivid  in  her  mind,  and  her 
senses,  so  recently  stirred  by  that  swift  embrace, 
showed  still  their  fine  capacity  to  throb. 

"Tomorrow!"  The  words  seemed  to  echo 
from  somewhere.  Tomorrow  and  tomorrow  ran 
through  her  tired  brain  till  she  realized  with  a  stab 
that  the  day  was  probably  dawning  and  tomorrow 
was  now  today. 

She  rose  and  switched  on  the  light.  It  was  nearly 
four.  She  looked  out  of  the  window.  The  force 
of  the  storm  had  spent  itself,  but  it  was  still  rain- 
ing dismally.  The  dawn  seemed  a  yellow,  dirty 
thing  as  it  struggled  up  back  of  the  pines. 

Mimi  had  shivered  a  little  and  then  huddled  back 
to  bed.  Yes,  tomorrow  was  now  today,  but  how 
intensely  she  wished  as  she  fell  into  a  fitful  sleep 
that  it  might  have  dawned  of  as  brilliant  sunshine 
as  yesterday. 

The  people  gathered  at  eleven  o'clock  breakfast 
that  morning  reflected  the  dreariness  of  the  weather. 
There  were  unmistakable  signs  of  nerves  everywhere, 
alarming  tendencies  to  be  quarrelsome.  It  took  the 
greatest  amount  of  tact  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Ander- 
244 


The  Sinister  Revel 

son  Prescott  to  keep  her  guests  from  actually  brawl- 
ing in  manner  unseemly  for  a  respectable  house 
party. 

"  If  people  feel  this  way,  why  under  the  heavens 
didn't  they  all  stay  in  bed?"  she  commented  to 
herself,  all  the  while  with  a  smiling  graciousness 
ministering  to  the  general  need  of  coffee  and  news- 
papers. Conversation  had  been  deftly  steered  out 
of  the  depths  of  Balkan  politics,  had  been  piloted 
carefully  through  the  shoals  of  gossip.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott was  beginning  to  have  hopes  that  breakfast 
might  be  safely  achieved  without  any  one's  going  on 
the  rocks. 

At  that  point  those  who  had  stayed  at  Colby's 
for  the  hunt  supper  came  trooping  in.  They  pre- 
sented a  somewhat  haggard  front. 

"  Colby  put  us  all  up,"  Jack  Bering  explained. 
"  It  was  raining  so  like  the  devil !  " 

"  Such  a  party,"  drawled  Madeleine  Kemp. 

"  We  got  away  early,"  volunteered  Cass  Wil- 
lard.  "  Guests  arriving  on  the  eleven  o'clock  Colby 
thought  it  expedient  the  girls  shouldn't  meet — " 

Mrs.  Prescott  raised  her  brows  delicately. 

"  Colby's  learning  discretion,"  was  her  only  com- 
ment. 

"  Well,  I  should  hate  to  let  my  imagination  run 
riot  as  to  what's  happening  over  there  this  rainy 
day!  "  said  Madeleine  with  obvious  ill  nature. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  about  to  frown  down  the  con- 

245 


The  Sinister  Revel 

versation  at  this  point.  Gossip  needs,  somehow, 
the  dimness  of  candle  light  to  soften  its  harsh  out- 
lines. Breakfast  is  the  last  place  — 

Mention  of  Craig  brought  a  swift  perception, 
however,  benefits  might  be  derived  from  a  frank 
expose.  Mrs.  Prescott  turned  right  about  face  and 
gave  the  necessary  cue  to  prolong  the  subject. 

"  Made  a  fool  of  himself?  How?  And  what 
women  are  they  expecting?  The  Pennell  creature, 
I  suppose,  and  the  Hardy  woman,  too  — " 

Mimi  had  gone  to  her  room  later  to  rest.  The 
gossip  had  affected  her  not  at  all.  Everybody  knew 
Madeleine  had  made  a  desperate  play  for  Craig's  at- 
tention last  winter  and  failed  pitiably.  And  if  Craig 
was  drunk  —  well  —  Mimi  smiled  her  odd  little 
smile.  That  was  one  way  of  getting  through  the 
hours.  No,  nothing  mattered,  nothing  except  that 
she  and  Craig  would  soon  be  together  in  the  old 
hunting  lodge. 

At  two  o'clock,  trembling,  apprehensive  lest  she 
be  discovered,  Mimi  got  into  a  raincoat  and  slipped 
out  of  a  side  door.  It  would  take  not  more  than 
twenty  minutes  by  the  short  cuts,  but  she  decided  to 
assure  her  escape  early. 

A  few  minutes  after  she  had  disappeared  into  the 
thick  drooping  trees  by  the  side  garden,  William 
Manning  came  out  of  the  house.  He  had  seen  her 
and  with  all  shrewdness  had  drawn  his  own  conclu- 
sions. He  went  to  the  garage  and  asked  for  his 
motor.  His  chauffeur  was  not  there. 
246 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said,  "  I  prefer  to  drive  my- 
self." 

The  men,  idling  about  the  place,  looked  at  him 
curiously. 

"  Bad  day  to  get  back  to  town,  sir,"  one  of  them 
ventured,  as  he  stowed  William's  bag  in  the  back  of 
the  machine.  "  If  you'd  wait  just  a  few  minutes,  we 
could  find  Baxter.  Just  stepped  out — " 

William  said  nothing.  He  got  into  the  car,  tested 
the  engine. 

"  Plenty  of  gas?" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

He  started  off  down  the  long  driveway.  For  half 
an  hour  he  wandered  about  vaguely  in  the  rain,  for 
the  purpose  of  killing  time,  however,  not  from  any 
indecision  as  to  his  destination.  At  last,  looking 
at  his  watch,  he  speeded  up.  A  few  minutes  later,  he 
drew  his  car  up  by  the  roadside  within  fifty  yards  of 
Colby's  old  hunting  lodge.  Then  very  softly  he 
made  his  way  to  the  clearing. 

The  lodge  presented  a  dismal  appearance.  Colby 
had  purposely  allowed  it  to  go  to  rack  and  ruin 
with  the  intent  of  making  the  place  more  picturesque. 
The  roof  sagged;  the  shutters  creaked;  the  vines 
ran  riot  everywhere.  On  a  bright  day  it  was  a 
charming  spot  to  come  across  accidentally  in  the 
heart  of  the  pines,  but  today,  as  William  viewed  it 
in  the  steady  downpour,  he  was  conscious  only  of 
the  waste  and  useless  decay  of  it  all. 

The  place  had  not  been  dismantled.  The  long 

247 


The  Sinister  Revel 

room  where  so  many  gay  hunting  parties  had  gath- 
ered in  the  past  was  still  comfortably  furnished. 
An  old  attendant  slept  in  the  place  at  night;  during 
the  daytime  it  was  quite  deserted  except  for  a  few 
itinerant  lovers. 

William  walked  up  the  path  that  led  to  the  piazza 
and  quietly  mounted  the  steps.  The  shutters  of  the 
long  windows  were  closed  but  he  could  see  through 
the  chinks  into  the  room  within. 

Mimi  was  sitting,  a  huddled  heap,  in  one  of  the 
big  chairs  by  the  fireplace,  that  seemed  the  more 
cheerless  for  the  ashes  of  a  fire  that  had  once  been 
there.  She  was  evidently  cold,  for  she  had  her  feet 
drawn  up  under  her  and  seemed  to  shiver  in  her  big 
coat,  that  she  had  wrapped  closely  about  her. 

The  dark  eyes  were  closed,  but  the  whole  figure, 
though  relaxed,  gave  the  impression  of  an  intense 
expectancy.  William  turned  away  and  sheltered 
himself  in  a  shadowed  corner  of  the  porch.  He, 
too,  was  intensely  waiting. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  came  back  and  looked 
again.  The  slight  figure  moved  a  little  restlessly  as 
he  watched  it;  there  was  a  look  of  pain  on  the  tiny 
face,  that  showed  drawn  and  white  in  the  dreary  light 
of  the  half-closed  room.  And  once  she  made  a 
feeble  effort  to  look  at  a  little  watch  she  had  hung 
about  her  neck. 

Another  half  hour  passed.  William  looked  at 
his  own  watch.  It  was  four  o'clock.  The  rendez- 
vous he  guessed  was  to  have  been  at  three.  Craig 
248 


The  Sinister  Revel 

had  forgotten.  With  a  grim  appreciation  that  this 
time  luck  was  his,  he  went  to  the  door,  opened  it  and 
stepped  in. 

The  little  figure  by  the  fireplace  gave  no  indication 
of  having  heard  his  entrance.  He  went  over  to 
her.  She  opened  her  eyes  wearily  and  looked  at 
him  as  if  in  no  way  surprised  at  his  presence.  It 
was  almost  as  if  she  had  expected  him.  Then,  turn- 
ing her  head  away,  she  again  closed  her  eyes. 

"Mimi!" 

"  Yes  — " 

"You  came  here  —  why?"  His  words  were 
measured  with  care. 

"  You  know,"  she  answered  with  her  eyes  still 
closed. 

*'  Tell  me,"  he  pressed  her  sharply  this  time. 

At  that  she  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"  I  came  here  to  meet  Craig,"  she  said.  The 
words  were  steady;  only  the  glowing  dark  eyes 
showed  her  pain. 

William  smiled  rather  grimly.  "  Are  you  sur- 
prised he  has  forgotten?  " 

That  wrung  from  her  a  sharp  little  "  Don't!  "  as 
with  a  despairing  gesture  she  again  turned  away 
and  closed  her  eyes. 

William  looked  at  her.  The  long  dark  lashes 
rested  heavily  on  the  cheeks  that  appeared  worn, 
almost  emaciated  in  the  dim  fitful  light.  She  seemed 
to  feel  his  scrutiny  for  she  moved  restlessly. 

"  Mimi,"  he  said  at  last  with  an  almost  cruel 

249 


The  Sinister  Revel 

deliberateness.  "Will  you  marry  me  now?" 
Then  with  an  attempt  at  flippancy  that  quite  failed: 
"  I  have  the  advantage  this  time  of  doing  the  un- 
expected." 

For  a  startled  moment  she  opened  her  eyes  to 
him,  but  in  their  fantastic  glints  he  could  read  noth- 
ing. Then,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  had 
burst  into  uncontrollable  weeping. 

William  went  over  to  the  window.  A  few  min- 
utes later  Mimi's  sobbing  broke.  William  could 
see  her  wiping  her  eyes.  Then  she  had  risen  and 
faced  him. 

"  You  understand  exactly  why  I  came?  "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  William  had  said.  "  It 
makes  no  difference." 

She  looked  at  him  long  and  musingly. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  marry  me?  "  she  asked  at 
length. 

But  he  would  give  her  no  satisfaction.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  he  did  not  know. 

"  That  I  do  want  to  is  sufficient  under  the  cir- 
cumstances — "  he  began. 

Another  storm  of  weeping  seized  her,  only  for 
a  brief  moment,  however.  Then,  "  I  am  ready," 
she  said,  with  a  great  weariness  in  her  voice,  "  but 
it  will  have  to  be  at  once." 

William  put  out  his  hand  quickly,  then  let  it  drop. 
He  turned  again  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"  It's  raining  hard,"  he  said  in  a  matter-of-fact 
250 


The  Sinister  Revel 

tone.  "  My  car  is  out  there.  We  could  make  Wil- 
liamstown  by  seven  o'clock." 

She  had  only  a  gasp  for  this  and  a  white  stare. 

"Shall  we  try  it?"  William  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  had  whispered  faintly  at  last. 
"  Yes." 

At  that  he  had  with  a  semblance  of  carelessness 
pulled  up  his  collar  and  buttoned  his  coat.  Then  he 
had  gone  out  and  left  her  alone. 

It  proved  a  terrible  trip.  For  four  hours  and  a 
half  they  rode  through  the  dripping  trees.  The 
roads  were  rough  and  William  lost  his  way  time  and 
time  again.  His  coolness  had  suddenly  deserted 
him;  he  became  prey  to  a  feverish  excitement  that 
robbed  him  of  all  power  of  concentration  and  sense 
of  direction.  They  blundered  about  in  the  cold  grip 
of  the  darkness.  The  woods  seemed  full  of  strange 
fears. 

Mimi  sat  huddled  in  her  corner.  She  felt  sick  and 
weak.  Once  a  lurching  jolt  of  the  big  car  wrung 
from  her  a  whimper  of  pain.  After  that  she  slept 
for  a  while  from  sheer  exhaustion. 

About  eight  o'clock  a  cluster  of  lights  flashed  out 
suddenly  upon  them  and  Mimi  roused  herself  to  ask 
the  name  of  the  village.  It  proved  to  be  a  small 
place  within  easy  reach  of  Williamstown.  More 
lights  twinkled  ahead,  of  almost  sinister  aspect  in 
the  steady  downpour.  Another  village  1 

At  nine  o'clock  they  reached  Williamstown,  and 
a  half  hour  later  were  married  in  the  little  vestry 

251 


The  Sinister  Revel 

room  of  the  old  church  with  the  minister's  house- 
keeper and  a  decrepit  sexton  as  witnesses. 

It  was  still  raining  when  they  came  out.  William 
helped  Mimi  into  the  motor  and  then  got  in  him- 
self. 

"  Good-night!  "  he  called  to  the  three  old  people 
grouped  with  their  smiling  banalities  in  the  doorway. 
"  Good-night  1" 

Mimi  stared  straight  ahead  till  they  had  started. 
Then,  suddenly  overwhelmed  with  a  feeling  of  dread 
finality,  she  had  again  given  way  to  an  uncontrollable 
sobbing. 


252 


Chapter  XVIII 


It  was  Simpson,  poor  old  Simpson,  who  bungled 
things  this  time.  Craig  had  come  home  from  the 
hunt  in  a  state  of  turbulent  excitement.  He  in- 
tended to  go  directly  to  bed  after  the  hunt  supper, 
but  the  rising  storm  made  him  restless.  He  spent 
the  evening  in  one  of  the  card  rooms  with  Cecil 
Brenchley,  who  arrived  on  the  eight  o'clock.  The 
two  got  themselves  into  a  disgraceful  state  of  drunk- 
enness as  they  sat  and  reminisced  of  Deauville  orgies. 
When,  about  twelve  o'clock,  Craig  crashed  over  the 
table  of  siphons  and  bottles  to  prove  to  Cecil  he  was 
still  in  the  best  of  trim,  some  one  had  presence  of 
mind  enough  to  send  for  Simpson. 

But  even  when  safely  stowed  in  bed  there  seemed 
no  rest  for  him.  The  wild  agony  of  the  night  tor- 
mented him,  and  he  could  not  sleep.  God,  how  it 
rained!  The  old  hunting  lodge  tomorrow,  and 
Mimi  with  her  strange,  strange  eyes !  But  the  wind 
in  the  pines  depressed  him.  It  rose  and  fell  mono- 
tonously; the  rain  pattered  on.  He  tossed  himself 
almost  to  a  delirium  till  Simpson  toward  morning 
took  pity  and  resorted  to  the  kindly  chloral.  Then 
Craig  had  fallen  into  a  heavy  dreamless  sleep. 

He  awoke  late  in  the  afternoon  to  the  same  dreary 
patter  of  the  rain.  It  was  quite  dark.  He  peered 
at  his  watch  on  the  night  table.  Five  o'clock.  The 

253 


The  Sinister  Revel 

day  had  not  yet  dawned  then.  His  head  felt  dull, 
stupid;  he  could  not  think  clearly.  There  were 
women's  voices  outside  in  the  hall  — 

Then  Simpson  had  tiptoed  in,  a  complacent, 
"Well,  well!"  on  his  lips. 

The  rest  was  all  confusion,  the  wild  panic  of 
realization  that  it  was  afternoon  and  he  was  two 
hours  late.  He  had  cursed  Simpson,  cursed  him- 
self, cursed  everybody  as  he  got  into  his  clothes 
in  violent  haste.  As  he  hurried  down  through  the 
big  hall,  a  half  dozen  women  tried  to  intercept  him 
but  he  stormed  by,  unheeding.  He  was  conscious 
only  of  the  glint  of  red  hair  —  The  Pennell !  Then 
the  party  was  on !  Damn  it  all,  how  he  hated  their 
shrill  voices ! 

A  horse  was  ready  for  him;  he  was  trembling  so 
the  groom  was  obliged  to  help  him  mount.  Then 
he  started  off  with  a  reckless  leap  for  the  old  lodge, 
but  he  knew  as  he  mounted  the  steps  Mimi  was  not 
there.  One  look  around,  and  he  was  again  in 
the  saddle.  Through  the  dripping  trees  he  rode, 
this  time  in  the  direction  of  the  Prescotts'. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  the  only  one  down-stairs. 
Thank  God  for  that! 

"  Mimi !  "  was  all  he  could  say. 

She  looked  at  him  compassionately.  Poor  fel- 
low! Obviously  the  worse  for  drink!  She  took 
him  into  her  private  sitting-room,  administered  a 
little  absinthe  even  as  she  was  sending  a  message  to 
Mimi's  room. 
254 


The  Sinister  Revel 

With  the  discovery  of  Mimi's  absence,  of  Wil- 
liam's departure  in  his  car,  Craig  had  quite  collapsed. 
He  remembered  only  vaguely  that  Mrs.  Prescott  was 
very  kind,  that  she  had  stood  with  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  told  him  he  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
if  what  they  feared  proved  true. 

There  were  interminable  hours  during  which  a  lot 
of  people  did  a  lot  of  telephoning  with  no  results. 
Scouts  were  dispatched  here  and  there.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott made  a  brave  story  of  it. 

"  I'm  afraid  there  has  been  a  motor  accident," 
she  explained  generally.  "  The  roads  are  bad  from 
the  rain  — " 

But  she  knew  the  truth.  So  did  Craig.  So  did 
everybody. 

Neighbouring  houses  and  wayside  inns  were  con- 
sulted. All  quite  useless ! 

Then  the  news  came  definitely.  William  had  tele- 
phoned from  the  old  Williamstown  Inn. 

"  A  real  romance !  "  Mrs.  Prescott  had  laughed 
over  the  phone.  "  You  have  furnished  us  excite- 
ment, William.  Why  not  come  back  here  for  the 
honeymoon?  " 

She  had  turned  to  find  Craig  on  the  point  of  leav- 
ing, already  at  the  door.  In  the  face  of  certainty  he 
had  been  able  to  pull  himself  together.  He  wanted 
now  to  get  away.  But  Mrs.  Prescott  showed  dis- 
may. Then  only  did  he  get  the  significance  of  her 
sympathetic  attitude. 

"  Ah  no,"  she  pleaded.     "  Don't  go.     Stay  here 

255 


The  Sinister  Revel 

all  night."  She  again  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder 
and  smiled  up  into  his  eyes.  He  was  conscious  of 
her  as  a  slender,  satin-clad  figure,  with  an  unmis- 
takable invitation  in  her  blue  eyes. 

The  incident  disconcerted  him. 

"  No,"  he  had  muttered.  "  I  must  go.  I  prom- 
ised Colby — " 

She  scored  in  that  she  surrendered  so  gracefully 
to  his  rebuff.  Her  good-night,  as  he  mounted  his 
horse,  was  as  careless  as  any  one  could  have  desired. 

He  did  not  go  back  to  Colby's  at  once.  It  had 
occurred  to  him  that  William,  undoubtedly,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  grim  exultation  had  telephoned  the  news 
there,  too.  He  felt  he  could  not  meet  just  yet  the 
mocking  that  would  await  him. 

So  he  had  turned,  sick  at  heart,  to  the  old  lodge 
again.  It  seemed  even  drearier  than  before.  The 
keeper  had  returned  now  and  let  him  in. 

"  I  want  to  rest  here  a  minute,"  Craig  explained. 
"  Bring  me  some  whiskey." 

The  man  made  a  feint  at  laying  a  fresh  fire. 

"  Let  that  go,"  Craig  said  impatiently.  He 
wanted  so  intensely  to  be  by  himself.  The  man 
shambled  off,  returning  a  few  minutes  later  with  a 
bottle. 

Craig  dismissed  him  generously,  but  even  so  the 
old  man  lingered. 

"Are  you  —  er  —  expecting  some  one,  sir?"  he 
managed  to  make  out  at  last  with  a  furtive  look  in 
his  old  eyes. 
256 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  No !  "  answered  Craig  shortly. 

It  was  this  little  incident  together  with  the  un- 
mistakable suggestion  in  Ann  Prescott's  eyes  that 
worked  to  a  quick  and  complete  change  in  Craig's 
viewpoint.  He  seemed  to  find  himself  suddenly  in 
a  world  of  clumsy  intrigue,  of  sneaking  assignation. 
It  disgusted  him;  it  depressed  him.  He  had  come 
there  to  fight  out  his  grief,  but,  instead,  the  wild  pro- 
test, the  hurt  of  disappointed  desire  seemed  suddenly 
swallowed  up  in  the  realization  of  a  sordid  danger 
escaped.  Illicit  intercourse !  Yes,  that  was  the 
thing  he  had  planned  to  achieve.  He  sat  there 
facing  the  ugly  fact  till  he  could  almost  bring  him- 
self to  a  certain  thankfulness.  Mimi,  with  her  will- 
o'-the-wisp  charm,  her  illusive  fascination!  It 
would  have  been  like  pulling  down  to  earth  with  a 
net  something  delicate  and  shimmering  that  should 
have  floated  always  in  rainbow  mists. 

The  torches  about  the  wall  burned  on  fitfully. 
The  keeper  shambled  in  once  or  twice  to  tend  them. 

The  evil  in  the  old  man's  eyes !  Craig  could  not 
lose  the  sense  of  it;  it  haunted  him.  Evill  There 
was  evil  everywhere.  Evil  in  him,  in  Ann  Prescott, 
in  Colby  and  his  whole  dissolute  crew.  There  was 
evil  in  everybody. 

Then,  suddenly  bringing  with  it  a  renewed  faith, 
there  arose  in  his  tired,  confused  brain  the  old  image 
of  Constance.  All  the  discords  and  defiances  that 
during  the  months  had  blurred  its  brightness  fell 
away.  Constance!  She  was  there,  luminous  and 

257 


The  Sinister  Revel 

pure,  his  answer  to  the  world's  evil.  He  felt  an 
extraordinary  accession  of  tenderness,  a  sharp  re- 
morse. Yet  above  everything  an  infinite  relief. 
He  rested  so,  for  an  hour  it  seemed,  content  in  a 
recovered  security.  The  future  shone  forth  with 
an  even  greater  promise  now,  rising  from  the  ob- 
scurity and  dubiety  of  the  past.  He  roused  himself 
at  last  from  his  reverie.  Yes,  he  would  go  back 
to  Newport  tomorrow. 

He  rose  to  find  he  was  shaking  violently.  He 
must  have  taken  cold.  An  object  on  the  floor  caught 
his  eye.  He  picked  it  up.  It  was  Mimi's  tiny 
glove,  mute  evidence  she  had  kept  her  faith.  His 
calm  broke  suddenly.  With  a  sweep  of  the  old  de- 
sire for  her,  he  found  himself  kissing  that  tiny  gaunt- 
let with  a  wild  protest  at  his  loss.  Then  gulping 
down  what  was  left  of  the  whiskey,  he  had  plunged 
with  an  oath  out  into  the  blackness. 

Colby's  stag  party  was  now  fully  mobilized,  re- 
inforcements having  arrived  at  intervals  all  during 
the  day.  There  were  about  twenty  in  all,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  Hawaiian  singers,  whose  weird  strains 
began  even  at  teatime  to  echo  through  the  house. 
Dinner  had  proved  an  hilarious  function.  The 
guests  were  ready  for  anything. 

When  Craig  blundered  into  the  hall  about  mid- 
night, he  was  greeted  with  a  wild  shout.  The  sorry 
figure  he  cut  as  he  stood  there  blinking  in  the  light 
promised  excellent  sport.  Be  it  said  to  William's 
credit,  he  had  not  telephoned  Colby,  but  how  was 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  to  know  that?  He  saw  nothing  but  mocking 
in  the  eyes  of  those  drunken  men  and  women  all 
gathered  there  to  bait  him  in  his  misery.  He'd 
show  them,  damn  it  all ! 

He  staggered  in,  defiant. 

"  He's  drunk!  "  some  one  said. 

"  Here !  "  Brenchley  cried  and  caught  him  as  he 
swayed. 

That  inflamed  Craig  the  more. 

"  Drunk!  "  he  cried,  infuriated.  "  Drunk!  I'll 
show  you  if  I'm  drunk,  damn  you !  " 

He  shook  Cecil  off  with  the  ferocity  of  a  wild 
animal.  Then  with  a  show  of  bravado  he  started 
for  the  stairs.  He  reeled;  a  laugh  went  up.  He 
steadied  himself  only  to  lunge  again. 

"  Fifty-fifty  he  breaks  his  neck,"  a  man's  voice 
jeered. 

Another  lunge !  But  this  time  in  a  rage  of  morti- 
fication Craig  realized  he  was  done  for.  He 
clutched  the  air  blindly  to  break  the  crash  that 
seemed  inevitable. 

Then  suddenly  he  felt  himself  steadied.  An- 
other laugh  went  up,  this  time  of  a  better  nature, 
and  Craig  realized  he  was  encircled  by  two  white 
arms  that  held  him  securely.  His  anger  broke.  He 
himself  could  see  now  the  fun  of  his  predicament. 
He  laughed  uproariously.  Then,  as  his  dazed 
vision  cleared,  he  found  himself  looking  into  the 
dumb,  kind  eyes  of  the  Hardy  woman.  He  had 
started  back  unconsciously.  She  let  him  go.  Then 

259 


The  Sinister  Revel 

feeling  himself  again  swaying,  he  had  caught  her 
wildly  to  him.  Another  shout  of  mirth  went  up, 
as,  leaning  heavily  upon  her  white  shoulder,  he  had 
steadied  himself  to  cry: 

"Drunk!  I'll  show  you  if  I'm  drunk!"  And 
at  that  with  a  laugh  he  had  again  taken  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her. 


260 


Chapter  XIX 

Six  weeks  later  Craig  was  on  his  way  to  West 
Riding.  The  orgy  at  Colby's  had  lasted  ten  days; 
the  rest  of  the  intervening  time  Craig  had  spent  at 
his  camp  in  the  Adirondacks,  alone,  except  for 
Simpson.  His  reckoning  had  been  a  hard  one,  in- 
volving the  loss  of  his  fundamental  belief  in  chance 
in  which  he  had  inevitably  taken  refuge  in  times 
of  emotional  crisis.  He  saw  now  this  chance  as 
but  a  superstition  of  which  he  had  been  a  victim 
from  his  earliest  youth.  He  had  blamed  Fate  for 
this  or  that,  dramatically,  protested  himself  not  a 
free  agent.  Now,  suddenly,  it  was  as  if  he  had 
cornered  that  Fate,  forced  it  to  unmask,  and  dis- 
covered —  simply  himself.  He  was  face  to  face 
now  for  the  first  time  with  his  own  weaknesses. 

To  fight  a  temptation  without  is  one  thing;  to 
root  out  an  evil  within,  another.  Craig  was  afraid. 
For  this  very  reason  he  must  go  to  Constance,  tell 
her  the  truth.  His  need  of  her  was  far,  far  greater 
than  ever  before;  the  very  urgency  of  it  constituted 
a  claim  he  felt  she  could  not  refuse  to  meet. 

He  had  wanted  to  go  to  her  at  once.  But  he 
had  been  miserably  sick  after  that  party.  The  cold 
he  had  caught  racked  him  terribly.  And  besides, 
he  wanted  a  little  time.  To  go  to  her  direct  from 
that  dissolute  crowd  was  an  impossibility.  Only  in 

261 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  clear  mountain  air  could  he  hope  to  lose  his 
sense  of  pollution. 

So  he  had  lingered,  and  here  it  was  the  end  of 
November.  West  Riding  had  never  seemed  more 
beautiful  than  it  appeared  the  day  of  his  return,  an 
autumn  sunset  back  of  the  old  house.  He  had 
gone  in,  a  little  sadly.  He  encountered  Lord  Mark 
in  the  hall,  an  unpleasant  reminder  of  Colby's  party. 

"  You  should  have  stayed  for  the  wind-up,"  his 
lordship  began,  but  Craig  cut  him  short. 

"  Is  Constance  here?  "  he  asked. 

Lord  Mark  nodded. 

He  went  directly  to  Constance's  room.  Her 
maid  opened  the  door.  He  heard  Lady  Asburton 
giving  directions. 

"  Will  you  tell  Mrs.  Van  Dam  I'd  like  to  talk 
to  her  in  the  library?"  he  had  said.  He  had  not 
realized  he  was  so  excited,  but  he  found  he  could 
hardly  control  his  voice. 

The  maid  returned.  Mrs.  Van  Dam  would  be 
down  immediately. 

Craig  breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  He  had 
feared,  somehow,  a  refusal. 

As  he  went  down-stairs  he  encountered  one  of  the 
parlour  maids.  She  purposely  got  in  his  way,  and 
gave  him  an  odd  provocative  look.  The  incident 
annoyed  him.  Lord  Mark,  doubtless  — 

There  was  a  certain  confusion  in  the  drawing- 
room.  He  passed  by  and  went  to  the  library.  A 
number  of  books  had  been  taken  from  the  shelves 
262 


The  Sinister  Revel 

and  were  piled  about.  He  opened  one  of  them, 
"  The  Return  of  the  Native."  He  and  Constance 
had  read  it  aloud  that  first  year  of  their  marriage. 
He  turned  away  quickly. 

On  the  centre  table  were  some  recent  snapshots  of 
Henry.  He  looked  over  them.  The  trembling 
of  his  hand  showed  his  nervousness. 

Then,  as  he  stood  fumbling  the  pictures,  he  real- 
ized Constance  was  standing  at  the  door.  She 
rested  a  minute,  her  hand  on  the  portiere,  and  then 
came  calmly  in. 

Craig  tried  to  speak  but  could  say  nothing.  The 
quick  perception  of  how  thin  she  was  brought  him 
a  sharp  pang.  She  looked  ill  and  worn.  There 
were  fine-drawn  lines  about  her  mouth,  shadows  un- 
der the  blue  eyes. 

She  seated  herself  on  one  side  of  the  table  and 
Craig  sank  into  a  chair  on  the  other. 

"  Constance  I  "  he  began  at  last  in  an  unsteady 
voice,  "  Constance,  I  have  something  to  tell  you  — " 

She  shaded  her  face  with  her  hand  a  minute  as 
if  unable  to  meet  the  intense  appeal  of  his  eyes. 
Then  — 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  she  answered  and 
her  voice  gained  strength  with  the  words.  "  Let 
me  speak  first." 

Then  as  they  sat  there  facing  each  other,  she  had 
stated,  quite  clearly  and  with  a  legal  precision  that 
would  have  done  justice  to  a  practised  lawyer,  the 
fact  that  she  intended  to  divorce  him. 

263 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  listened  dumbly.  But,  as  her  words 
grouped  themselves  to  a  slowly  apprehended  mean- 
ing, he  had  started  to  his  feet  with  a  quick,  pro- 
testing cry. 

"  Constance !  "  was  all  he  could  say,  "Con- 
stance! "  but  the  sharp  pain  in  his  voice  carried  his 
appeal. 

She  rose,  trembling,  to  confront  him.  Only  in  re- 
iteration of  her  claim  could  she  hope  to  retain  her 
courage. 

"  You  have  been  unfaithful  — "  she  faltered. 
"Unfaithful!" 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  however.  He  was 
conscious  only  of  the  rush  and  turbulence  of  his  emo- 
tion —  his  great  love  of  her,  his  greater  need.  He 
took  a  step  forward  — 

"  Constance !  "  he  said,  the  whole  force  of  his 
desperate  plea  in  his  eyes. 

But  even  as  he  felt,  with  a  quick  sweep  of  joy, 
that  he  had  reached  her,  even  as  he  saw  her  weaken 
to  a  trembling  response,  the  door  opened  and  Lady 
Asburton  came  into  the  room. 


264 


Part  VI 


Chapter  XX 


A  month  later  Constance  was  granted  her  divorce, 
the  woman,  Flora  Hardy,  being  named  as  co-re- 
spondent. Craig's  discovery  that  Lork  Mark  was 
the  traitor  had  proved  the  point  where  his  resistance 
broke  down. 

As  he  and  Lady  Asburton  faced  each  other  that 
afternoon  with  Constance  between  them,  Craig  had 
a  swift,  sharp  perception  that  the  great  crisis  of  his 
life  was  at  hand.  He  had  gathered  his  forces  for  a 
last  supreme  appeal,  which  he  made  with  a  passion 
that  could  not  fail  to  carry  its  conviction.  Con- 
stance had  broken  to  a  sob  and  turned  away.  He 
sprang  eagerly  to  her  side  but  Lady  Asburton  was 
there  before  him,  there  in  all  grimness  to  be  dealt 
with.  She  started  to  argue  coldly;  she  stated  stark 
facts.  Craig  blundered  in  impetuously  only  to  be 
ignored,  to  be  reduced  to  absurdity.  She,  too,  kept 
reiterating,  as  Constance  had  done,  that  he  had  been 
unfaithful.  He  gave  an  angry  impatient  gesture, 
which  she  misread  as  denial. 

"  Lord  Mark  — "  she  said  with  a  cold  conclu- 
siveness.  At  that,  face  to  face  with  the  perfidy  of 
Lord  Mark,  with  a  wider  comprehension  of  her  lady- 
ship's scheme,  Craig  in  a  quick  violence  of  temper 

267 


The  Sinister  Revel 

lost  control  of  himself  completely.  The  scene  that 
followed  was  a  bitter  one;  Craig  showed  to  little 
advantage  in  the  harsh  abuse  he  hurled  at  her  lady- 
ship. 

"  But  Mimi  Poitier  — " 

There  she  had  him!  He  had  staggered  back  a 
little,  feeling  the  probe. 

His  eyes  sought  Constance's.  She  had  suddenly 
ceased  her  weeping;  even  as  he  looked,  her  indeci- 
sion dropped  from  her.  Calm  and  direct  she  came 
forward  and  putting  her  hand  on  Lady  Asburton's 
shoulder  faced  him. 

The  sense  of  failure  at  the  very  moment  of  victory, 
the  realization  that  he  himself  in  some  unaccount- 
able way  had  bungled,  deprived  Craig  of  the  last 
vestige  of  reason.  A  half  hour  later,  he  had  flung 
out  of  the  house  with  the  awful  conviction  that  he 
had  irrevocably  wrought  to  his  own  defeat. 

Three  days  later  when  he  came  back  to  West  Rid- 
ing, miserable,  sordidly  drunk,  he  discovered  that 
Constance  had  left  for  good.  Not  once,  after  that, 
was  he  allowed  to  see  her.  He  had  written  her 
wildly,  dramatically;  he  had  attempted  to  force  an 
entrance  at  her  hotel.  But  always  did  he  find  him- 
self thrown  back  upon  his  own  violence. 

Her  lawyer  was  suave.  "  If  Mr.  Van  Dam  had 
something  to  say,  he  would  be  only  too  happy  to 
report  it  to  his  client  — " 

Her  secretary,  with  a  smug  look,  brought  paper 
and  pencil.  "If  Mr.  Van  Dam  would  —  er  —  in- 
268 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dicate  exactly  what  he  —  er  —  wanted  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Van  Dam  — " 

What  could  he  do?  Craig  slouched  off  after 
each  attempt,  raging,  mortified,  wretched.  He  was 
drunk  all  the  time;  that  hurt  his  cause.  He  knew 
it,  but  the  perversity  of  his  nature  drove  him  on. 

His  lawyer  took  occasion  to  remonstrate  with 
him.  But  Craig's  "  By  God,  I'll  do  as  I  please," 
pointed  the  futility  of  tendering  any  advice.  So  he 
was  left  alone,  eventually,  to  wreak  his  own  wilful 
destruction. 

Then,  as  if  his  unhappiness  were  not  complete, 
there  had  happened  something  else  to  make  him  still 
more  miserable. 

His  mother  and  Lili  were  in  Hot  Springs.  That 
they  had  heard  the  wretched  news  he  was  sure,  for 
the  newspapers  were  full  of  it.  He  had  wanted  so 
intensely  a  little  sympathy,  but  the  weeks  passed 
without  word  of  any  sort. 

Then  one  morning  reading  by  chance  of  their  re- 
turn to  town,  he  had  rushed  at  once  to  the  house. 
He  went  to  Lili's  room  first.  She  greeted  him 
radiantly. 

"  Of  course  you've  heard?  "  she  asked,  almost  as 
he  kissed  her. 

He  was  taken  aback.  Full  of  his  own  trouble  he 
had  expected  immediate  response  in  others. 

"  Heard?  "  he  stammered  at  a  loss.     "  What?  " 

"  Hasn't  George  seen  you?  "  she  asked  with  faint 
surprise. 

269 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  George !  "  was  all  he  could  echo  stupidly. 

She  laughed. 

"  Probably  he  forgot  it." 

Then,  seeing  Craig  still  in  a  daze,  she  had  gone 
to  him  and  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

"  George  and  I  are  engaged,"  she  said. 

The  horror  in  Craig's  eyes  was  unmistakable  as 
the  truth  flashed  across  him. 

"  George  Winters !  "  he  gasped. 

Then  without  thought  of  any  incongruity  in  what 
he  was  doing,  he  had  gone  on  blindly  to  protest. 
He  ranted  and  railed,  was  morally  indignant. 

Lili  had  listened,  amused,  let  him  work  off  his 
violence. 

"  Good  God,  Lili !  "  he  cried  at  last.  "  You  don't 
know  what  you're  doing.  He's  —  he's  — " 

She  smiled  a  knowing  little  smile. 

"  Vile  — "  she  had  supplied  quite  calmly.  This 
brought  him  up  with  a  stare. 

Lili  had  again  gone  over  to  him  as  if  sorry  for  his 
bewilderment. 

"  Raggy  dear,"  she  said  in  all  kindness,  "  you  take 
life  too  hard."  Then  as  if  to  point  out  to  him  for 
his  own  good  the  inconsistency  of  his  attitude,  "  If 
George  is  bad,  you  know,  dear,  he's  not  a  bit  worse 
than  the  papers  say  you  are  — " 

The  only  reference  there  was  to  his  own  trouble ! 

He  had  gone  to  his  mother  later,  but  before  her 
ineffectual  acquiescence  in  Lili's  plans,  and  with  that 
new  sense  of  the  absurdity  of  his  own  attitude 
270 


The  Sinister  Revel 

in  the  matter,  his  objections  had  dropped  weakly. 

Tony  had  intercepted  him  in  the  hall.  Strange 
to  say  they  saw  little  of  each  other  now.  They 
withdrew  to  a  card  room  for  a  cocktail. 

"  Tell  me  about  Cecily  Pennell,"  Tony  had  said 
curiously.  "  I'd  like  to  meet  her  — " 

Craig  met  George  Winters  at  the  Club  that  after- 
noon and  forced  himself  to  the  proper  banalities. 

"  Your  mix-up  is  an  ugly  one,"  George  had  re- 
marked incidentally.  Craig  could  have  struck  him 
for  the  note  of  patronage  in  his  stupid  thick  voice. 

Good  God !     Winters  would  be  cutting  him  next ! 

Craig  went  about  very  little  now,  but  even  so  he 
had  come  to  realize  that  Society  was  taking  a  defi- 
nite stand  against  him.  Absurd  and  inexplicable  in 
a  world  where  divorce  was  as  simply  recorded  as 
birth  or  death!  He  found  acquaintances,  men  of 
open  scandal,  evading  him,  making  elaborate  ex- 
cuses. He  became  doubtful  of  the  return  of  a  nod. 
He  had  one  or  two  open  slights  from  women,  dis- 
concerting beyond  measure.  And  always,  every- 
where, there  were  the  newspapers !  Not  an  incident 
of  his  career  but  was  dragged  to  the  light  in  horrid, 
sinister  detail.  Ann  May !  He  had  struggled  so 
with  the  years  to  forget  her!  His  continental 
career!  Mimi!  Yes,  there  lay  their  neatest 
chance.  Her  elopement  followed  so  closely  by  his 
divorce  was  seized  upon  with  hue  and  cry.  "  This 
page  of  Berkshire  intrigue,"  so  they  called  it,  made 
interesting  reading  to  the  great  public  that  fattens 

271 


The  Sinister  Revel 

its  crop  on  the  scandal  of  the  rich.  Then,  the 
Poitier  tragedy  was  again  revived  — 

It  was  loathsome;  it  was  sickening.  Yet,  per- 
haps, the  notoriety  was  not  without  its  mead,  for 
so  exasperated  was  Craig  by  the  petty  irritations 
each  day  brought  forth  that  he  did  not  once  in  those 
weeks  preparatory  to  the  divorce  face  squarely  the 
real  significance  of  it. 

His  mind  had  always  been  capable  of  queer  dis- 
tortions of  value.  He  seemed  now  to  lose  all  sense 
of  the  barren  years  that  stretched  ahead  in  his  blind 
fury  at  being  turned  away  from  Constance's  door. 
The  Asburton  treachery  he  lost  sight  of  utterly  in 
an  impotent  rage  at  the  vagueness  of  Mrs.  Andy 
Prescott's  nod  when  he  encountered  her  on  the 
Avenue. 

So  it  went.  In  the  end,  so  disgusted  was  he,  so 
sickened  of  it  all,  he  was  relieved  when  the  pro- 
ceedings had  worked  themselves  to  their  honourable 
climax. 

The  hearing  was  private.  Craig  himself  did  not 
appear.  So  it  was  this  big  momentous  thing  that 
happened  to  him  never  seemed  a  reality  even  with 
the  years  that  pointed  so  cruelly  its  truth. 

A  week  after  the  divorce,  Craig,  desperately,  piti- 
fully drunk,  sailed  for  Europe;  Natty  and  the  Hardy 
woman  went  with  him. 


272 


Chapter  XXI 

Two  years  later  we  find  Craig  living  in  Cannes, 
the  central  figure  of  Riviera  brilliancy.  There  was 
that  in  his  nature  which  found  response  in  the  shift- 
ing crowds.  Restless,  unscrupulous,  satiate  and  in- 
satiate, they  came  and  went,  of  fitful,  kaleidoscopic 
interest.  It  was  all  a  part  of  his  own  insecurity 
of  foothold,  that  ever-changing  throng;  for  Craig 
did  not  yet  understand,  could  not  understand  how 
events  had  overtaken  him.  With  the  passing  of 
the  months,  however,  he  came  to  realize  painfully 
and  slowly  the  tragedy  he  had  wrought  in  Con- 
stance's life.  He  saw  her  now  no  longer  the  lumi- 
nous vision  of  beauty  and  calm;  he  saw  her  simply 
as  a  woman  and  a  suffering  one.  It  was  given  him 
to  follow,  now  that  it  was  too  late,  the  developing 
phases  of  her  relation  to  him.  Incidents,  that  be- 
fore seemed  inexplicable,  irrelevant,  now  fell  into 
their  proper  order  and  he  could  trace  all  too  surely 
her  struggles  from  their  trivial  beginning  through  to 
their  disastrous  end. 

At  first,  she  had  been  so  eager  that  he  measure  to 
her  ladyship's  standard.  What  more  naive,  more 
natural!  And  he  had  mortified  her,  wilfully  it 
seemed  to  him  now,  by  projecting  all  his  little  mean- 
nesses and  petty  instincts. 

273 


The  Sinister  Revel 

In  the  matter  of  Weyburn  she  had  been  carried 
away  by  the  unselfish  motive  of  protecting  her  child. 
It  was  the  element  of  the  heroic  in  this  that  had 
carried  her  through  the  pain  of  the  gradual  estrange- 
ment. 

Then  Mimi  had  come.  Constance  was  but  a 
woman  after  all  and  had  proved  the  victim  of  an  un- 
reasoning jealousy.  It  was  because  Mimi  was  so 
like  him,  so  of  him  in  his  moods  and  perversities,  that 
Constance  could  not  forgive.  In  her  well-ordered 
scheme  of  things  she  seemed  so  outside  the  turbu- 
lence that  was  essentially  their  bond.  Craig  had 
found  in  her  a  refuge,  a  comfortable  sanctuary;  in 
Mimi  he  had  found  a  throbbing,  vivid  response. 
Poor  Constance!  She  would  willingly  have  sacri- 
ficed her  every  virtue  to  be,  even  for  a  brief  second, 
of  Craig's  nature  as  Mimi  was  of  it. 

Mimi's  marriage  she  had  read,  as  Lady  Asburton 
had  read  it,  as  the  world  at  large  had  read  it,  a  pro- 
tection in  an  affair,  with  William  the  stalking-horse. 
This  had  driven  her  to  a  desperation  that  made 
her  easy  prey  to  Lady  Asburton's  malignity  of  pur- 
pose. The  divorce  had  been  the  result. 

It  was  evidence  of  Craig's  new  penetration  that 
he  no  longer  took  refuge  in  abuse  of  others;  he 
knew  that  he  himself  in  his  weakness  and  violence 
and  passion  was  essentially  to  blame  for  the  disaster 
that  had  come  upon  him.  He  had  wrecked  his  own 
life;  there  might  be  a  certain  justice  in  that.  But 
—  Constance's  face  with  its  lines  of  pain  rose  to 
274 


The  Sinister  Revel 

confront  him  as  a  great  reproach  —  he  had  dragged 
her  down,  too!  There  lay  the  crying  shame  that 
brought  the  greatest  bewilderment  of  suffering. 

With  the  realization  of  dread  finality  forced  upon 
him  by  the  months,  with  the  fact  there  to  be  dealt 
with  that  he  must  go  on  and  live,  his  protest  dulled 
and  a  strange  apathy  fastened  upon  him.  That  was 
Natty's  chance  and,  needless  to  say,  he  made  the 
most  of  it  to  his  own  sordid  profit  and  Craig's 
eventual  ruin.  Craig  lacked  utterly  the  incentive 
even  to  live ;  Natty  found  him  the  more  plastic  ma- 
terial, as  a  result,  to  shape  to  his  own  evil  ends. 
There  were  months  in  Paris  of  brilliant  debauchery, 
a  season  in  Vienna,  Moscow,  London.  It  was  the 
sort  of  life  Craig  had  led  under  Winters'  tutelage, 
only  of  a  more  seasoned  viciousness. 

He  was  still  the  slim  boyish  figure  as  in  his  college 
days,  but  his  eyes  now  showed  hard  in  their  restless- 
ness and  there  were  sharp  lines  about  his  mouth. 

Society  again  followed  his  career,  but  this  time 
in  greater  detail,  for  it  was  part  of  Natty's  policy 
to  keep  well  in  the  limelight.  Escapades,  that  might 
have  passed  unnoticed  with  any  other  man,  were 
blazoned  forth  on  two  continents,  and  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  events.  Craig  cursed  the  news- 
papers bitterly,  spent  vast  sums  of  money  to  hush  up 
this  or  that.  All  quite  useless!  The  infernal  no- 
toriety followed  him  everywhere.  Not  till  too  late 
did  Craig  discover  it  was  just  Natty's  way  of  keeping 
his  old  friends  cognizant  of  his  movements,  friends 

275 


The  Sinister  Revel 

who,  less  fortunate  of  lot,  were  gradually  sinking  to 
an  ignominious  obscurity. 

So  it  was  the  world  was  enabled  to  follow  Craig's 
every  spectacular  move.  He,  himself,  however, 
seemed  strangely  cut  off  from  the  old  life,  and  knew 
but  little  of  what  was  happening  to  his  friends.  He 
had  learned  through  his  lawyer  that  Constance  was 
in  London,  that  she  and  Lady  Asburton  had  taken 
a  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  Tony  wrote  persist- 
ently of  coming  to  join  him;  he  discouraged  that, 
though  with  a  sweep  of  homesickness  as  he  did  so. 

He  had  run  into  Larry  and  Doris  the  first  winter 
in  Paris.  Larry  was  interested  in  a  little  dancer  at 
the  Folies  and  quite  deliberately  threw  the  respon- 
sibility of  his  wife's  entertainment  on  Craig.  Doris 
with  her  insolent  red  hair!  She  had  managed  to 
hold  him  for  a  while,  but  he  soon  tired. 

He  spent  three  days  one  spring  with  his  mother  in 
Munich.  She  was  interested,  in  her  graceful  way, 
in  a  famous  seer  preaching  there  at  the  time.  Craig 
could  not  help  feeling  himself  out  of  place  in  an 
atmosphere  that  made  for  seances  and  mystic  moves. 
So  he  had  curtailed  his  visit. 

He  read  of  Courtz's  death  in  a  motor  accident 
at  Palm  Beach,  "  leaving  a  widow  and  three  chil- 
dren." Three  children!  It  didn't  seem  possible. 
Poor  Vera!  They  had  been  such  a  happy  couple. 
Colby  Beach  shot  himself.  Finances,  the  papers 
said;  but  Society  knew  better,  recalling  Colby's  ex- 
cesses. 

276 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Then  in  the  second  year  news  came  that  Tony  was 
on  his  way.  Craig  felt  a  quick  pleasure  in  spite  of 
general  misgivings.  He  had  been  lonely;  he  was 
lonely,  miserably  so.  He  thought  of  going  over  to 
Liverpool  to  meet  the  steamer.  But  —  well  — 
people  didn't  do  those  things.  Tony  would  prob- 
ably set  it  down  as  sentimental,  anyway.  So  he 
stayed  in  Paris  and  waited.  Tony's  coming  he  kaew 
meant  a  vital  change  in  his  existence,  and  he  was 
glad  that  it  was  so.  He  would  give  up  his  place  at 
Cannes,  dispense,  as  quickly  as  he  dared,  with  Natty. 
He  and  Tony  would  have  a  gay  time,  but,  hang  it 
all,  not  too  gay.  For  he  intended  to  look  out  for 
the  youngster,  tell  him  a  few  things  in  genuine  good 
faith — .  The  steamer  docked;  he  read  of  it  in  the 
newspapers.  No  Tony,  however !  A  week  passed; 
he  began  to  get  alarmed.  Two  weeks  I 

Then  the  news  flared  out  one  morning  in  the 
Paris  Herald.  Tony  had  been  married  in  London 
to  a  Mrs.  Edith  Goodhue,  a  divorcee  of  Washing- 
ton reputation.  The  lady  had  had  a  somewhat  lurid 
career,  but,  at  the  tender  age  of  forty,  was  all  pre- 
pared for  another  turn  at  domesticity.  Craig  could 
not  help  getting  the  humour  of  the  situation,  though 
his  own  disappointment  endowed  that  humour  with 
a  certain  quality  of  sardonic  grimness. 

"  They  say  she  booked  on  the  same  steamer  pur- 
posely," Billy  Severn  remarked  that  night  as  he 
and  Craig  were  talking  it  over  at  the  Ritz  bar  where 
they  had  run  into  each  other  accidentally. 

277 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  What  is  she  like?  "  Craig  had  asked. 

"  Hum  —  Auburn  hair,  last  report !  But  it  can't 
be  entirely  a  question  of  money.  She  has  a  lot 
herself,  you  know." 

"What  is  it,  then?"  Craig  asked.  "Hardly 
love's  young  dream!  " 

Billy  was  sage.  "  She's  tired  of  the  life  she's 
leading  and  genuinely  wants  to  settle  down.  Some- 
times women  do  —  when  they're  forty." 

Craig  showed  his  comprehension  with  a  laugh. 

"  And  Tony'll  have  to  settle  down  with  her." 

"  A  sure  bet!  "  Billy  answered.  "  Tony'll  never 
get  off  on  that  world  spree  he's  been  banking  on  since 
college  days  — " 

"  Since  his  cradle !  "  Craig  interpolated.  Then 
after  a  second's  reflection  — "  Odd  how  things  go  !  " 

They  separated  soon  after. 

"What  are  your  winter  plans?"  Billy  asked,  as 
they  parted. 

"  Oh  — "  Craig  looked  suddenly  at  a  loss. 
"  Cannes,  probably.  Look  me  up  if  you're  down 
there." 

The  next  morning  came  a  wire  from  Tony,  a  mes- 
sage exuberant  in  the  plural  pronoun.  The  sub- 
stance was  this:  They  were  arriving  on  the  six 
o'clock  and  would  count  on  Craig  for  dinner  at 
eight. 

It  was  a  very,  very  important  Tony  Craig  en- 
countered as  host  that  night. 

"  This  is  Edith,"  he  had  announced  with  a  sweep 
278 


The  Sinister  Revel 

of  his  hand,  the  great  pride  of  possession  in  his 
voice. 

Craig  got  at  once  the  fact  that  Billy  had  done 
Edith  no  injustice  in  placing  her  at  forty.  She  was 
forty  and  showed  it.  The  accident  possibly  of  her 
dyed  hair,  of  her  flaccid  chin !  Her  eyes  were  — 
hang  it  all,  what  colour  were  they?  Craig  knew 
only  that  in  their  rather  watery  depths  was  the  hard 
determination  to  oust  him  as  quickly  as  possible 
from  her  husband's  young  affection.  In  Tony's  life 
hereafter  there  was  to  be  but  one  motif. 

"  Well  —  it's  good-bye,  Tony !  "  Craig  had  said 
to  himself  with  a  deal  of  bittnerness  as  he  listened 
to  Edith's  dulcet  tones. 

"  We've  decided  to  live  in  Paris,"  Tony  had  an- 
nounced. "  Of  course  we'll  see  a  lot  of  you." 

"  Of  course !  "  Edith  had  echoed. 

"  Of  course !  "  Craig  agreed.  "  I'm  leaving  in 
the  morning.  However,  next  time  — 

Be  it  said  to  Craig's  credit  he  did  his  best  to 
keep  the  relationship  a  pleasant  one.  He  wrote 
to  Tony,  whose  replies  became  more  and  more  er- 
ratic and  finally  spluttered  out  entirely.  Three 
months  later  on  his  way  through  Paris  he  took  occa- 
sion to  call  Tony  up.  "  How  about  dinner  ?  "  Tony 
demurred.  "We  can't!"  he  said  rather  weakly 
at  last.  Then  after  a  second's  pause,  "  But  I'll  tell 
you  —  Wait  a  minute."  There  was  the  sound  of 
a  door  being  closed  in  all  furtiveness.  "  I  say,  I'll 
meet  you  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  Ritz  bar  — " 

279 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  arrived  nervously.  It  was  obvious  he  had 
something  to  say,  but  it  took  several  gulps  of  prepa- 
ration before  he  could  manage  to  say  it. 

"  Look  here,"  he  brought  out  at  last.  "  You 
know  Edie's  so  damned  particular;  wives  have  to  be. 
And  as  long  as  everybody  knows  you've  got  that 
Hardy  woman  on  the  string  —  why  er  —  oh  Hell, 
don't  you  see?  It's  damned  awkward  for  us  to  be 
seen  in  public  with  you." 

Craig  saw  perfectly.  It  was  just  as  he  had  ex- 
pected. He  felt  no  resentment  against  Tony;  he 
was  only  a  little  sorry  for  him. 

"  But  we  can  meet  this  way  — "  Tony  had  has- 
tened to  add. 

"  You  mean  without  Edith's  knowing  it?  "  Craig 
had  pressed. 

That  was  rather  mean,  though.  The  thing  didn't 
sound  well,  starkly  expressed.  Tony  had  reddened 
violently. 

Craig  took  it  as  a  solid  proof  of  Tony's  affec- 
tion that  he  could  still  stand  up  under  the  indignity 
with  a 

"  But,  by  God,  Rags,  I'm  fond  of  you.  Promise 
now  — " 

Craig  did  promise  and  heartily. 

Three  months  later,  again  in  Paris,  he  had  con- 
trived that  Tony  join  him  in  another  clandestine 
cocktail  at  the  Ritz  bar.  This  time  there  was  even 
more  to  communicate  as  Craig  could  tell  at  once 
from  the  very  expansiveness  of  Tony's  back  before 
280 


The  Sinister  Revel 

he  had  swung  around  in  greeting.  The  news 
evolved  at  last.  Tony  had  drawn  himself  up  and 
with  an  air  of  supreme  majesty  had  remarked: 

"  By  the  way,  we're  expecting — " 

"  No !  "  Craig's  surprise  was  everything  Tony 
could  demand. 

"  Fact!  "  Tony  had  rejoined. 

With  a  lordly  sweep  of  his  hand  he  indicated  to  the 
waiter  that  their  order  be  renewed.  Then,  turning 
to  Craig  again,  he  condescended  to  a  greater  ex- 
plicitness. 

"  In  August,"  he  added. 

That  was  the  last  time  Craig  and  Tony  met  as 
anything  but  the  most  casual  of  acquaintances.  The 
next  time  Craig  called  Tony  up,  he  pleaded  a  former 
engagement. 

That  spring  at  Cannes,  Craig  had  a  letter  from 
Lili.  She  was  on  her  way  to  the  Jimmy  Treadwells 
in  Vallambrosa. 

"  I'll  stop  off  and  have  dinner  with  you,"  she  had 
written.  "  Take  the  night  train  for  Florence." 

Craig  was  still  capable  of  sparks  of  his  old  en- 
thusiasm. He  was  immensely  pleased.  Let's  see 
—  he  hadn't  seen  Lili  since  before  her  marriage, 
nearly  two  years  ago.  He  recognized  with  a  quick 
flash  of  relief  as  she  stepped  from  the  train  that  she 
was  the  same  slender,  girlish  Lili.  A  little  more 
talkative,  however,  he  pronounced  as  she  chattered 
on. 

And  George?     How  was  George? 

281 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Oh,  in  capital  condition !  She  was  to  join  him  in 
London  later.  He  was  trying  a  new  kind  of  bath  to 
reduce  his  nice  old  fat  self  — 

Dinner  was  jolly.  Lili  adored  Craig's  place,  in- 
sisted on  going  over  it  all.  She  picked  a  rose  for 
herself  in  the  garden,  affected  a  tinge  of  melancholy 
as  they  strayed  through  the  cypress  walk.  And  that 
one  mountain  peak  back  of  the  house,  jagged  against 
the  shadowy  heavens!  Ah!  Lili  breathed  a  sigh, 
then  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  Let's  go  inside,"  she  suggested.  "  They  say 
there's  malaria  in  the  night  air." 

Ensconced  in  his  lounge,  they  got  down  to  facts. 
Craig  urged  her  to  stay  with  him  a  while  but  she 
shook  her  head  emphatically. 

"  Quite  impossible !  "  she  pronounced. 

Why?  Well  —  there  was  no  secret  about  it. 
She  was  to  meet  Bronson  Todd  at  the  Treadwells'. 
Oh  yes,  George  knew;  but  it  didn't  matter. 

"  Don't  you  see,  Raggy  — "  Lili  puckered  her 
brows  preliminary  to  exposition.  "  That's  exactly 
the  point  of  our  being  so  well-suited,  it's  just  so 
wonderfully  comfortable  to  get  back  to  each  other." 

She  mused  a  little  and  then  gan^o.  pensive  sigh. 
Craig  was  beginning  to  recognize  in  ner  a  ,new  ele- 
ment he  did  not  quite  like. 

"  There's  a  terrible  rack  in  any  love  affaE-i,"  she 
went  on.  "  Nine  tenths  of  it  is  living  up  to  some- 
thing you  don't  feel.  Now  here  am  I,  rushing  wildly 
across  the  continent,  sleeping  on  night  trains,  eating 
282 


The  Sinister  Revel 

a  lot  of  badly  cooked  food  — "  She  shook  her  head. 
"  It  may  be  picturesque,  it  may  be  romantic,  but — " 
She  rose  and  tossed  her  burnt-out  cigarette  into  the 
grate.  "  It's  all  damned  awkward!  " 

Craig  looked  at  her  quickly. 

"  But  why?  "  he  began  seriously. 

Lili  shrugged.  Her  sally  had  not  been  accorded 
the  amusement  she  expected.  Craig  was  too  tire- 
some at  times.  She  did  not  bother  to  answer,  but 
began  to  wander  up  and  down  listlessly  looking  at 
this  or  that.  Her  eye  caught  a  picture  on  the  mantel. 

"  Ghanzita !  "  she  exclaimed  as  she  went  closer 
to  examine  it.  "  Is  she  here?  " 

"  Yes,  singing  at  the  Casino  — 

They  stood  looking  at  the  picture.  Then  their 
eyes  met. 

"  Mimi !  "  Lili  murmured. 

"  Yes,"  Craig  said.  "  She  is  like  Mimi,  without 
any  of  Mimi's  charm."  Then  after  a  pause,  "  What 
about  Mimi?  " 

"  They  have  lived  in  Ceylon  entirely  since  their 
marriage,"  Lili  answered.  "  Carly  ran  into  them 
last  year.  He  said  Mimi  was  not  at  all  well.  ^She 
writes,  occasio""nv,  in  her  old  wild-fire  way  — 

Then  by  a  strange  thought  transition,  they  had 
both  .  ted  at  once  to  talk  of  Constance. 

"  IT  ive  you  seen  her?  "  Craig  had  asked. 

"  Once,  in  London,"  Lili  had  answered.  "  She's 
living  there,  you  know.  They  say  the  Asburtons 
are  doing  her  outrageously.  Let's  see,  it  was  in 

283 


The  Sinister  Revel 

some  store.  Oh  yes,  Peter  Robinson's!  She  was 
buying  the  little  Henry  a  toy  automobile.  An  ador- 
able youngster!  What!  You  haven't  seen  the 
child!" 

"  I  have  asked  twice,"  Craig  had  said,  "  but  been 
refused." 

Lili  was  indignant;  Craig  changed  the  subject. 

"And  Tony?" 

Lili  assumed  a  look  of  broad  importance.  "  You 
knew —  er —  didn't  you?"  she  said,  lowering  her 
voice  to  a  confidential  undertone,  "  that  we  were  ex- 
pecting — " 

"In  August — "  Craig  supplemented,  and  they 
both  laughed  heartily  at  poor  Tony's  expense. 

"  But  how  about  you,  Lili?"  Craig  had  said  at 
length.  "  Aren't  you  going  to  do  your  duty  by  the 
next  generation?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  not!  "  she  brought  out  with 
conviction. 

Then,  as  if  realizing  her  tone  had  rung  harsh, 
"Have  children?"  she  said  gaily.  "To  inherit 
George's  vices?  Why,  they'd  begin  to  curse  in  the 
cradle  — " 

She  dismissed  the  subject  lightly  at  that,  asked  for 
some  cognac.  Anecdotes  and  gossip  were  in  order. 

It  was  cosy;  it  was  jolly;  it  was  like  old  times. 
But  the  realization  was  forced,  notwithstanding,  that 
Lili  had  undoubtedly  changed.  The  delicacy  that 
had  been  so  subtly  her  charm  had  gone;  in  its  place 
was  a  hard  kernel  of  worldliness  overspread  with  a 
284 


The  Sinister  Revel 

tinselled  wit.  She  seemed  always  playing  for  an 
effect. 

"It's  all  damned  awkward!"  That  still  rang 
in  Craig's  ears.  He  hated  to  hear  a  woman  swear. 
He  hated,  too,  to  see  Lili  sitting  there  drinking 
brandy.  In  the  end,  he  felt  himself  restless,  almost 
cross,  and  was  glad  when  it  was  train  time.  Lili, 
too,  drooped,  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the  constantly 
recurring  yawns.  Craig  could  bring  himself  to  no 
regret  as  he  kissed  her  at  the  station;  his  good-bye 
was  apathetic. 

"  We're  going  back  to  the  States  in  a  month,"  she 
had  said.  "  Perhaps  you'll  be  back  some  day." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  had  echoed.     "  Till  then  - 

As  the  train  pulled  out,  he  turned,  irresolute,  and 
got  into  his  car. 

"  Home  1  "  he  said  to  the  chauffeur.  But  they 
had  hardly  started  off  before,  with  one  of  his  old 
quick  flashes,  he  had  changed  his  mind. 

"  No,"  he  called,  "  The  Villa  Rosa." 


285 


Chapter  XXII 

"  She's  out  for  big  game."  So  Natty  had  said 
it;  so  Craig  had  accepted  it.  The  only  conclusion 
possible,  granted  the  premises! 

Flora's  career  had  been  a  noteworthy  one.  A 
telephone  girl  in  an  obscure  hotel,  she  had  been  dis- 
covered by  Oscar  Rosenal,  of  musical  comedy  repute. 
He  saw  in  her  beauty  a  good  investment,  one  that 
with  time  worked  out  its  justification  in  lavish  re- 
turns. Flora's  star  rose  rapidly  in  the  theatrical 
heavens.  Mr.  Rosenal  was  a  clever  manager;  Flora 
proved  amenable  to  suggestion.  Publicity  played  its 
part,  too,  in  her  success.  Her  classic  profile  !  Her 
perfect  back!  The  highest  paid  chorus-girl  in  the 
country  I  One  got  used  to  confronting  her  in  picture 
sections  on  Sunday. 

Then  suddenly  Flora  ceased  to  be  a  chorus  girl. 
She  was  featured.  A  joke  rippled  along  Broadway, 
set  in  motion  by  Mr.  Rosenal,  himself,  so  the  rumour 
carried.  She  had  twenty-six  words  to  say,  and  for- 
got twenty  of  them.  But  what  did  that  matter, 
really?  She  was  taken  very  seriously  for  the  most 
part,  her  beauty  the  drawing-card.  It  was  for  her 
beauty  men  like  Tracy  Woodworth  fell.  Her  es- 
tablishment on  Riverside  was  a  gorgeous  one,  too 
gorgeous,  but  how  was  Flora  to  know  that?  Mr. 
286 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Rosenal,  either,  for  that  matter?  John  Durland 
had  his  day;  another  lover  and  yet  again  another. 
Then  came  the  matter  of  Preston  Loring.  The 
crash  of  the  firm  "  Loring  &  Loring  "  was  sufficient 
excuse  for  Flora  to  look  elsewhere.  But  at  this 
critical  juncture  in  her  career  Rosenal  had  very  in- 
discreetly died. 

The  coming  of  Natty  in  Cecily's  train  was  timed 
neatly.  What  more  natural  than  that  he  should 
manfully  shoulder  the  dead  Jew's  responsibilities? 

"What  are  you  doing  over  here?"  Flora  had 
asked  him,  even  at  the  steamer  where  she  had  be- 
taken her  fair  self  to  meet  Cecily. 

"  Oh,  I'm  to  be  with  young  Van  Dam,"  Natty 
had  replied  jauntily.  At  which  their  eyes  met 
quickly.  Natty  read  her  as  more  the  sort  he  was 
looking  for  than  the  too  vivacious  Pennell.  Flora 
saw  her  chance.  The  thing  was  a  frame-up  from 
the  beginning. 

Craig  understood  the  situation  perfectly.  He 
preferred  to  have  his  relation  with  a  woman  like 
Flora  entirely  on  a  commercial  basis.  But,  before 
the  first  year  of  their  sojourn  abroad  was  over,  Craig 
came  to  realize  that,  whatever  her  original  intent, 
Flora  was  actuated  in  her  dealings  with  him  no 
longer  by  material  motives.  She  was,  in  her  stupid, 
dull,  unenlightened  way,  in  love  with  him.  He  re- 
sented this.  He  treated  her  abominably.  He  was 
coldly  sarcastic.  He  was  arrogant,  intolerant  of 
her  stupidity.  He  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his 

287 


The  Sinister  Revel 

affairs  with  other  women.  Why  should  he?  What 
consideration  could  Flora  exact?  Flora  with  that 
dumb  look  of  devotion  in  the  depths  of  her  depth- 
less  eyes!  How  that  maddened  him!  Yet,  in  a 
world  all  too  shifting,  too  casual,  he  found  himself 
becoming  singularly  dependent  on  that  devotion. 
Through  all  the  phases  of  his  continental  career 
Flora  had  stayed  with  him.  She  was  just  there,  that 
was  all,  there  with  her  beauty,  her  stupidity,  her 
dogged  worship.  In  his  growing  dependence  on  her 
being  there,  however,  lay  the  ignominy  of  it  for 
Craig. 

On  the  night  of  Lili's  departure,  just  because 
there  seemed  no  one  else  to  turn  to  in  his  loneliness, 
Craig  had  flung  into  Flora's  house  in  a  temper.  He 
had  gone  directly  to  her  room.  She  was  dressing, 
but  dismissed  her  maid  and  smiled  timidly  up  at  him. 

"  Well,"  he  asked  with  irritation,  "  what  are  you 
smiling  at?  " 

She  ceased  smiling.     "Nothing!  "  she  murmured. 

"  Then  for  God's  sake,  stop !  "  he  said  harshly. 

She  sat  there,  stupid,  her  arms  at  her  sides.  He 
looked  at  her  critically. 

"  You're  getting  stout!  "  he  brought  out  at  last. 

"  Ah  no!  "  she  cried  and  there  was  genuine  pain 
in  her  voice.  He  laughed  at  her  dismay  as  she 
reached  hurriedly  for  a  hand-mirror. 

He  twisted  the  mirror  out  of  her  hand  and  threw 
it  back  on  the  dressing  table. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool!  "  he  said.  "  I  was  only  jok- 
288 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ing.     I  was  thinking  you  would  get  stout  some  day." 

Then,  as  he  noted  an  evening  gown  laid  out  on  the 
bed,  "  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  I  had  thought,  perhaps,  the  Casino.  The 
Baron  and  Ghanzita  — " 

Craig  rose  and  stretched  himself.  "  I'll  go,  too," 
he  said. 

Flora  brightened.  He  watched  her  dress  in 
trembling  haste.  She  talked,  a  remark  here  and 
there  to  catch  his  attention,  but  he  didn't  listen.  He 
never  listened  to  Flora.  But  she  was  beautiful. 
There  was  a  certain  satisfaction  in  having  the  best 
to  look  at. 

He  rang  for  a  drink. 

"  Brandy  and  soda,"  he  said  to  the  footman  who 
answered  his  call. 

Flora  was  putting  on  her  cloak;  he  put  out  his 
hand  to  help  her.  Their  eyes  met;  he  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  her.  Her  look  of  rapt  sub- 
mission annoyed  him.  His  sudden  passion  flickered 
out  and  he  let  her  go  abruptly. 

The  footman  returned  with  the  drink.  Craig 
drank  it  off  hurriedly. 

Then,  as  Flora  stood  in  obvious  uncertainty  as  to 
whether  they  were  to  go  or  stay,  Craig  burst  out : 

"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  go.     I'm  tired." 

Flora  took  off  her  coat  hastily. 

"  I'm  going  home,"  Craig  wound  up.  Only  in 
irrelevance  and  inconsistency  did  he  take  satisfaction 
at  moments  of  this  sort. 

280 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Flora  started  to  protest.  "  Ah,  no,  no !  "  she 
cried  but  her  entreaties  dropped  before  the  hard  light 
in  his  eyes. 

He  gave  her  one  sweeping  look  of  contempt,  then, 
in  an  unreasoning  fury,  he  went  out  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  him. 

Downstairs  he  met  the  footman,  who  obsequiously 
hastened  to  open  the  front  door. 

Craig  stood  staring  at  him  a  minute.  Then, 
"  Send  the  car  home !  "  he  said,  and,  turning,  walked 
quietly  up  the  stairs. 

It  was  directly  after  this  Craig  declared  for  a 
motor  trip.  He  was  tired  of  crowds  and  lights,  for 
the  Riviera  was  still  gay;  he  wanted  "to  get  away 
somewhere,  damn  it  all !  "  as  he  expressed  it  to 
Natty.  His  decision  had  been  precipitated  by  an 
incident  that  seemed  the  last  goad  to  his  aching 
nerves.  He  had  come  across  a  picture  of  Constance 
one  morning  in  a  London  paper. 

"  Mrs.  Constance  Van  Dam,  whose  engagement 
to  Lord  Chesham  is  being  rumoured — " 

Craig  knew  it  a  lie,  the  sort  of  thing  every  woman 
of  conspicuous  fortune  is  subjected  to.  But  the 
quick  pang  he  felt  as  he  read  the  item  evidenced 
how  little  divorce  had  effected  of  vital  severance. 
Yet,  he  had  spent  two  years  trying  to  teach  himself 
the  finality  of  their  separation. 

"  To  get  away  somewhere."  Yes,  that  was  what 
he  wanted,  but  he  didn't  have  the  courage  to  go  by 
290 


The  Sinister  Revel 

himself,  so  he  took  Flora,  Natty,  Ghanzita  and  the 
young  Baron  de  Croisic.  The  idea  was  to  motor 
back  in  the  Esterels  to  the  Mont  du  Cheval  Blanc 
through  the  Castellane  country.  It  was  rather  a 
rural  venture,  not  at  all  to  any  one's  liking  except 
Craig's.  There  were  some  rough  roads  back  in  the 
mountains. 

"  And  the  inns  are  abominable !  "  the  Baron  had 
complained  to  Natty. 

"  But  you  know  what  he  is  when  he  gets  a  no- 
tion — "  Natty  rejoined. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  how  far  — "  the  Baron  asked 
in  plaintive  tone. 

"  He  talks  vaguely  of  Grenoble  — "  laughed 
Natty. 

"  My  God !  "  gasped  the  Baron. 

"  We  can  play  cards,"  ventured  Ghanzita. 
"  He's  evidently  in  a  mood  to  lose  — " 

"We  could  have  played  cards  in  Cannes!  "  the 
Baron  said. 

However,  they  went.  Craig  was  too  valuable  a 
friend  to  lose  on  a  slight  issue  of  this  sort 

The  party  started  off  in  low  spirits.  It  was  a 
bad  day  to  begin  with  and  even  Natty's  hampers 
failed  of  the  good  cheer  expected.  No  amount  of 
anything  put  inside  could  obliterate  the  sense  of  the 
discomforts  outside !  Their  first  night  on  the  road, 
spent  at  a  damp  and  dirty  little  inn,  was  a  thing  to 
be  put  on  record  in  the  de  Croisic  annals. 

291 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  It's  these  damned  Americans!  "  pronounced  the 
Baron,  and  felt  he  had  said  the  worst  that  could  be 
said  of  his  young  host. 

The  second  day  started  off,  of  better  promise. 
Even  the  Baron  responded  to  the  morning  sunshine, 
and  could  bring  himself  to  smile,  forgetful  of  the 
night's  ignominy. 

The  motor  trip,  however,  was  destined  to  run  the 
briefest  course.  Noon  saw  the  event  that  all  but 
ended  in  a  general  disaster.  It  came  unheralded,  as 
such  events  always  do. 

They  had  climbed  laboriously  up  one  of  the  moun- 
tain roads,  winding  around  and  around  to  a  region 
of  hardy  pines,  of  cooler  atmosphere.  Below  them 
lay  the  rich,  green  stretches  of  valley;  clinging  dan- 
gerously to  the  steep  slopes  were  the  tiny  red-roofed 
villages,  picturesque,  romantic;  the  Mediterranean 
in  the  azure  distance.  It  was  a  gorgeous  scene,  and 
above  it  all  the  bright,  clear  spring  sky. 

Craig  could  almost  find  a  little  calm  as  he  gazed; 
they  were  so  high  up,  so  above  the  moil  of  things. 
The  steep  drop  to  the  right  of  them,  the  high  cliff 
of  the  mountainside  to  the  left! 

Craig  himself  was  driving.  In  that  he  still  got  a 
certain  relief  from  tension;  his  mind  seemed  to 
smooth  itself  out  as  he  covered  stretches  of  the  open. 

Then  suddenly  they  were  to  find  themselves 
brought  up  short  on  a  curve,  with  the  road  ahead 
piled  high  with  rocks.  A  landslide,  doubtless  the 
result  of  yesterday's  rain!  How  awkward!  The 
292 


The  Sinister  Revel 

way  was  obviously  impassable  so  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  go  back.  A  feat  that  seemed  fairly  sim- 
ple of  performance,  till  Craig  and  his  chauffeur  dis- 
covered simultaneously  the  road  was  too  narrow  to 
afford  a  turn. 

"  We'll  back!  "  Craig  announced  doggedly.  This 
wrested  a  scream  from  Ghanzita.  The  Baron  was 
already  precipitately  alighting  from  the  other  side 
of  the  car.  Natty  himself  turned  pale,  vacillated, 
as  his  eyes  met  the  scorn  in  Craig's,  and  then  tumbled 
out  on  the  heels  of  the  chauffeur.  Only  Flora  re- 
mained. Craig  looked  at  her.  She  was  dead  white, 
in  an  unmistakable  state  of  terror. 

"  Well !  "  he  said  irritably. 

She  nodded  her  head.  "  I'll  stay,"  she  gasped, 
and  even  as  she  spoke  Craig  started  up  the  engine 
with  a  jerk.  A  sharp  cry  went  up  from  the  others. 
Craig  was  half  drunk  and  they  all  knew  it.  But  it 
was  too  late  !  He  was  already  blundering  down  and 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  follow  in  a  disorderly 
panic,  Ghanzita  whimpering  hysterically,  the  Baron 
all  of  a  tremble,  Natty  and  the  chauffeur  shouting  in 
wild  alarm.  The  car  zig-zagged  this  way  and  that. 
They  stumbled  after  it,  panting,  terror-stricken. 
Now  they  were  almost  up  to  it;  now  it  was  out  of 
sight.  Another  turn!  Thank  God,  there  they 
were  !  Craig  in  an  insanity  of  drunken  recklessness, 
Flora  the  more  ashen  and  ghastly  for  the  rouge  on 
her  cheeks !  The  car  was  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
road;  then  suddenly  it  was  on  the  outer  with  only 

293 


The  Sinister  Revel 

a  couple  of  inches  between  it  and  the  drop.  The 
back  wheel  slipped.  Ghanzita  screamed  and  cov- 
ered her  eyes.  But  at  the  very  second  the  car 
seemed  to  be  hanging  in  the  air  over  the  precipice, 
Craig  was  seen  to  look  at  Flora.  With  a  laugh  at 
the  horror  frozen  in  her  eyes,  he  put  on  all  power. 
The  car  as  it  toppled  on  the  edge  seemed  like  some 
gigantic  animal  that  struggled  at  its  fate.  With  a 
strain,  a  heave  of  almost  superhuman  power,  it 
pulled  its  great  length  together  arid  leaped  to  safety. 
But  in  leaping  it  was  blind  to  the  height  of  cliff 
that  towered  on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  road. 
Against  that  it  crashed  with  all  the  violence  of  its 
spring  and  then,  panting  and  broken,  toppled  over  on 
its  side. 


294 


Chapter  XXIII 

^  The  wonder  was,  of  course,  they  were  not  killed. 
Craig  was  in  the  hospital  at  Grasse  for  two  months, 
Flora  a  little  longer  still.  The  good  doctors  who 
hurried  officiously  to  consultation  from  all  over  the 
Riviera  could  only  marvel  at  such  an  escape;  those 
who  had  witnessed  the  accident  were  still  more  in- 
credulous. But  the  facts  remained, —  the  injuries 
sustained  were  apparently  surface  ones.  The  weeks 
saw  the  two  patients  discharged,  pronounced  "  in  as 
good  condition  as  ever." 

The  accident,  as  was  only  to  be  expected,  won 
much  notoriety  for  itself.  There  were  incidents 
connected  with  it  that  savoured  almost  of  mediaeval 
lore. 

There  was  one  rumour  that  Craig  had  been  stoned 
in  the  mountain  fastnesses  by  a  gang  of  labourers 
who  decried  him  as  the  "  evil  eye."  There  was  a 
little  trouble  of  the  sort  with  some  road  workers 
who  had  been  summoned  in  assistance,  but  nothing 
to  warrant  the  luridness  of  the  newspaper  accounts. 

Another  report  had  it  that  Craig  attempted  to 
crash  the  whole  party  to  death  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  for 
the  beautiful  Ghanzita.  Only  Natty's  qu-ick  pres- 
ence of  mind  saved  the  situation,  so  it  was  generally 
believed.  The  Baron,  too,  figured  in  heroic  pro- 
portions. 

295 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Again,  forced  to  live  down  a  notoriety  he  loathed 
above  everything,  Craig  shut  himself  up  in  his  place 
in  Cannes,  refusing  every  diversion.  As  he  saw 
less  and  less  of  the  outside  world  he  saw  more  and 
more  of  Flora,  to  the  gradual  discovery  that  the 
accident  had,  highly  paid  medical  opinion  to  the 
contrary,  worked  a  subtle  change  in  her.  He  came 
to  realize  with  a  strange  terror  as  of  the  uncanny 
that  her  mind  was  affected.  Whether  from  actual 
injuries  sustained,  or  from  the  strain  of  horror  to 
which  he  had  subjected  her  he  never  knew. 

He  noticed  the  change  at  first  in  little  things. 
There  was  an  unusual  glitter  in  the  eyes  that  had  al- 
ways been  so  dully  soft  and  submissive.  An  almost 
furtive  habit  of  movement  replaced  her  former 
stupid  obviousness.  Her  lips  moved  when  she  was 
unaware  he  watched  her;  and  once,  as  he  came 
quietly  to  her  dressing-room,  he  heard  her  laughing 
to  herself,  a  low  almost  sinister  laugh. 

With  a  dread  uneasiness  he  had  taken  occasion  to 
speak  to  Natty  about  it.  Natty  had  nodded. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  noticed  it.  They're  apt  to  go  that 
way.  We  could  put  her  away  somewhere  —  sani- 
tarium — " 

Craig  had  cut  him  short  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  Can't  we  do  something?  " 

Natty  shrugged. 

"  I  doubt  it."  Then  by  way  of  warning,  "  But 
I'd  be  careful.  Don't  take  any  chances  — " 

"  Chances!  "  Craig  repeated. 
296 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  She  might  prove  dangerous." 

"  Oh !  "  Craig  hadn't  thought  of  that.  He  pon- 
dered a  moment.  Then  "  No,"  he  said  with  con- 
viction,  "  she  won't  touch  me.  Let  her  go  for  a 
while.  It  may  wear  off." 

It  may  wear  off.  He  kept  telling  himself  that 
till  the  weeks  proved  definitely  the  disease  had  fas- 
tened its  hold  for  good.  Yet  Craig  found  himself 
spending  more  and  more  time  at  the  Villa  Rosa. 
Flora  held  a  sinister  attraction  for  him  now;  he  could 
not  keep  away.  He  would  sit  and  watch  her  by  the 
hour,  brood  on  the  strange  glint  in  her  eyes,  the 
nervous  movements  of  her  hands.  And  every  so 
often  her  head  jerked  back.  H«  would  provoke  her 
deliberately  to  some  erratic  response,  and  then  go 
away,  trembling,  fearful,  horror-stricken.  He  was 
obliged  to  go  to  Paris  now  and  again  on  business, 
but  always  he  hurried  back  of  a  dread  curiosity  as  to 
the  inroads  of  the  disease  during  his  absence. 

For  three  months  after  her  return  from  the  hos- 
pital Flora  had  been  content  in  the  isolation  Craig 
had  enforced  upon  her  as  well  as  upon  himself,  but 
with  the  return  of  the  Baron  and  Ghanzita  from  a 
season  at  Ostend,  she  became  restless,  determined 
in  a  furtive  way  to  take  up  the  old  life  with  its  daz- 
zling round  of  gaiety.  Craig  had  a  desperate  strug- 
gle to  fend  off  the  Baron's  importunities,  to  distract 
Flora  into  forgetfulness  of  her  purpose.  To  that 
end  he  spent  most  of  his  time  with  her,  for  days  at  a 
stretch  giving  himself  to  her  amusement,  never  going 

297 


The  Sinister  Revel 

home.  During  his  trips  away  he  enjoined  strict 
watch  on  Natty. 

Then  one  night  he  had  returned  after  a  brief  ab- 
sence to  find  Flora  was  in  Monte  Carlo  with  the 
Baron  and  Ghanzita.  That  marked  the  beginning 
of  a  new  phase.  The  initial  step  taken,  Craig  gave 
in  to  a  renewal  of  the  old  life  of  dissipation.  The 
more  readily  so,  as  he  came  to  discover  Flora's  de- 
rangement was  of  so  subtle  a  nature  that  it  defied  the 
observation  of  those  brought  into  casual  contact  with 
her.  She  had  ever  been  but  a  decoration;  she 
could  still  qualify  as  such.  It  was  with  a  certain  re- 
lief of  tension,  therefore,  Craig  gathered  about  him- 
self the  season's  throng.  To  the  outside  world  that 
winter  seemed  different  from -the  former  one,  only  in 
that  it  was  a  little  more  brilliant,  a  little  more  disso- 
lute. 

The  Idler  was  in  the  harbour;  there  were  count- 
less gay  yachting  parties.  Flora  wore  a  hundred 
superb  costumes,  the  delight  of  every  fashion  maga- 
zine. There  was  a  three  hundred  thousand  dollar 
pearl  necklace  of  the  famous  old  house  of  de  La- 
vergne  added  to  her  already  notorious  collection  of 
jewels. 

But  at  the  heart  of  it  all  was  the  insidious  dis- 
ease, forcing  its  way  relentlessly  to  the  surface. 
The  season  flared  to  a  dazzling  climax  and  then 
flickered  out.  Not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  already 
there  were  whispers  going  about,  strange  hints  and 
surmises.  Ghanzita  and  the  Baron,  who  threatened 
208 


The  Sinister  Revel 

to  stay  late  into  the  spring,  had  to  be  dealt  with 
directly. 

The  Baron  showed  himself  cold-blooded.  "  Put 
her  away  — "  came  as  a  prompt  suggestion. 

"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  will,"  Craig  cried,  the 
angrier  in  that  he  had  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  Baron's 
intent.  With  Flora  summarily  disposed  of,  what 
more  natural  than  Ghanzita  in  the  role  of  Craig's 
consoler,  to  the  B'aron's  eventual  profit?  A  das- 
tardly frame-up!1  He  came  to  suspect  Natty,  too, 
of  being  in  the  league  and  for  that  reason  shut  off 
abruptly  his  every  suggestion  as  to  the  disposition 
of  Flora. 

"  By -God!  I'll  manage  this  -business  myself!  " 
he  cried,  and  blind  with  obstinacy  persisted  beyond 
the  point  of  all  reason.  For  Flora  was  unquestion- 
ably getting  worse  and  worse.  Her  insanity  was 
developing  along  the  line  of  an  intense  jealousy;  she 
watched  Craig  with  a  furtive  closeness  that  let  noth- 
ing escape  it.  Upon  Ghanzita  she  came  at  last  to 
centre  all  the  force  of  her  suspicion. 

Craig  had  attempted  to  argue  with  her,  losing 
none  of  the  fine  sardonic  quality  of  the  situation. 
That  he  should  explain  to  Flora,  seek  to  justify 
himself  — 

She  had  listened  with  downcast  eyes,  avoiding  his 
look.  He  could  see  -the  twitch  of  the  muscles  in  her 
beautiful  throat. 

Then,  "  When  are  you  going  to  marry  me?  "  she 
had  said,  raising  her  eyes  at  last  to  his.  Seeing  the 

299 


The  Sinister  Revel 

startled  dismay  in  his  face,  she  had  burst  into  a 
shrill  laugh  that  broke  -to  dire  invectives  against 
Ghanzita. 

Craig  had  turned  ghastly  white.  There  was  a 
new  quality  in  this  scene  that  shook  his  nerves.  He 
sought  out  the  Baron  in  trepidation,  warned  him. 

"  You  had  better  go  away,"  he  said.  "  She's 
jealous  of  Ghanzita;  she  may  take  a  vicious  turn." 

But  the  Baron  would  hear  none  of  it. 

"  My  dear  fellow!  Certainly  not.  We'll  stick, 
see  the  thing  through  — " 

After  that  Craig  consented  that  Flora  have  a 
nurse. 

June  found  Craig  a  wreck  of  nerves.  He  had 
gone  over  to  Villefranche  one  day  to  some  races 
and  encountered  Seward  Ross.  Seward  was  only 
too  glad  to  come  home  with  him.  It  was  then,  see- 
ing his  effect  upon  another,  Craig  came  to  realize  the 
ravage  of  the  last  year  upon  him. 

"  But  you're  ill,  man !  "  Seward  had  cried. 
"  You're  sick.  It's  this  beastly  Riviera  —  Come  to 
Paris." 

Craig  had  only  shaken  his  head. 

After  dinner  as  they  were  sitting  in  the  lounge 
with  the  French  windows  open  to  the  terrace,  Craig 
had  felt  himself  trembling  violently.  It  was  as  if 
suddenly  he  felt  the  eyes  of  Flora  with  their  furtive 
watch  upon  him.  A  strange  illusion  he  had  been 
prey  to  time  and  again  these  last  few  weeks !  In 
abject  terror  he  had  staggered  to  one  of  the  win- 
300 


The  Sinister  Revel 

dows.  Only  the  deep  night  outside,  and  the  great 
sombre  cypress  walk  with  its  whispering  depressions  ! 
He  had  shivered  and  shut  all  the  doors  in  nervous 
haste.  "  I  got  overheated  jumping  this  morning," 
he  explained,  but  could  hardly  control  his  voice. 

Seward  looked  at  him  curiously.  The  Clubs  were 
not  without  their  gossip  of  Craig's  present  compli- 
cation. 

"  Damn  it  all,  if  I  could  only  get  him  away," 
Seward  thought  even  as  he  was  saying  aloud, 
"  You're  drinking  too  much."  Then  after  a  sec- 
ond's reflection  he  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"A  snap  decision,  now!  How  about  the  mid- 
night for  Paris?  " 

But  before  Craig  had  even  grasped  his  meaning, 
Seward  had  taken  his  consent  for  granted.  He  rang 
for  Simpson. 

"  We're  taking  the  night  train  for  Paris,  Simp- 
son!" he  had  said,  which  move  Simpson  had  in- 
dorsed with  a  look  of  the  deepest  gratitude  and  a 
heart-felt  "Thank  God!" 

Paris  in  June  was  even  jollier  than  Craig  remem- 
bered. He  found  himself  exhilarated.  There  were 
some  races  in  the  suburbs;  coaching  was  in  order. 
He  and  Seward  looked  up  Carly,  ran  into  Bronson 
accidentally.  They  met  a  few  charming  French 
women  of  the  right  set,  and,  all  in  all,  had  a  delight- 
ful, refreshing,  wholesome  time  of  it.  Craig  was 
all  for  a  summer  in  Paris,  decided  to  take  a  house  — 

Then  one  night  in  the  lobby  of  the  Ritz  he  had 

301 


The  Sinister  Revel 

run  into  William.  A  startling  encounter!  It  was 
for  Craig  to  ease  off  the  situation  with  a 

"Jove!  What  a  surprise!  I  thought  you  were 
in  Yokohama !  " 

"  Ceylon,"  William  corrected. 

The  two  men  shook  hands. 

William  explained  rather  stiffly  they  had  come  to 
Paris  to  settle  up  Mr.  Poitier's  affairs. 

"Yes,  I  read  of  his  death,"  Craig  had  said. 
"  About  a  year  ago,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  About  a  year,"  William  admitted. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence;  each  was  fully 
aware  the  other  was  floundering  about  for  a  line. 

"  And  Mimi?  "  Craig  brought  out  at  last. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened.  William  was 
seen  to  weaken  to  a  vacillation  that  was  almost  pa- 
thetic in  one  of  his  grimness. 

"  Would  you  —  er  —  She's  not  very  well,  but  — 
would  you  care  to  —  to  see  her?  " 

Craig  had  gone  to  their  rooms  that  night  for  din- 
ner. The  dizzy  rise  in  the  elevator  seemed  all  a 
part  of  his  bewildered  joy.  His  spirits  soared. 
Mimi  with  her  strange  eyes,  her  wild-fire  whimsies  — 

And  again  it  was  to  be  Mimi  and  only  Mimi  to 
haunt  him.  She  was  just  the  same,  only  a  greater 
restlessness  in  her  glowing  eyes.  She  had  taken 
both  his  hands  as  she  greeted  him,  and  talked  her 
lovely,  piquant  French.  Craig  could  only  stammer 
awkwardly,  with  all  the  while  the  tense  conscious- 
302 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ness  of  that  new  disconcerting  look  in  William's  eyes. 

They  dined  brilliantly  in  the  big  dining-room 
down-stairs.  Mimi  had  insisted  on  that.  "  It  is  too 
stupid  up  here,"  she  said.  So  William  had  given 
in.  Craig  welcomed  the  confusion  of  it  all, —  the 
hum  of  voices,  the  shifting  crowd,  the  music  in  the 
distance.  Mimi  chattered  on,  talking  of  Lili,  Tony, 
Vera,  everybody. 

"  And  you  —  you  are  living  in  Cannes  !  "  she  said 
at  last. 

"  Yes,"  Craig  answered.  "  The  old  de  Lavergne 
place  — " 

"  Ah!  "  Mimi  became  pensive.  "  I  lived  directly 
next,  at  the  Californie,  when  I  was  a  child.  Many 
a  time  have  I  crept  into  the  de  Lavergne  gardens. 
And  your  great  cypress  walk  — "  She  sighed  a  lit- 
tle as  she  mused,  "  I  used  to  think  it  haunted;  I  be- 
lieved in  ghosts  so  thoroughly  then." 

She  raised  her  eyes  a  fleeting  second  to  Craig's  at 
that.  "  I  think  I  almost  believe  in  them  now,"  she 
said  a  little  sadly.  Then  brightening  on  the  instant 
— "  And  how  was  Duke  Mike?  Was  he  still  across 
the  way?  "  Mimi  had  always  adored  Duke  Mike. 
And  the  yellow  Mimosa!  The  roses  at  Grasse! 
The  gulls  at  Cannes ! 

Then  Craig  suddenly  realized  the  dark  eyes  that 
had  been  so  illusive  up  to  now  were  resting  for  the 
first  time  in  his.  The  strange,  quickened  light  of 
them,  the  tense  repression ! 

303 


The  Sinister  Revel 

After  that,  she  had  drooped  pitifully,  pleaded  a 
sighing  surrender  to  fatigue  and  they  had  left  the 
dining-room. 

"  It's  always  this  way,"  William  had  said.  "  She 
overdoes." 

Mimi  put  her  hand  in  Craig's. 

"  Tomorrow,"  she  murmured.  Then  as  if  the 
word  had  cost  her  too  much  effort,  tears  of  weakness 
came  to  her  eyes.  She  turned  helplessly  to  William, 
who  put  his  arm  about  her  and  half  carried  her  into 
the  lift.  A  second  later,  they  disappeared. 

The  next  morning  Craig  had  received  a  note  from 
Mimi.  "  Go  back  to  Cannes  and  the  cypress  walk," 
she  had  written  in  her  odd,  erratic  hand-writing. 
"  Yes,  I  do  believe  in  ghosts, —  ghosts  of  our  dead 
selves,  our  dead  passions.  .  .  ." 

She  ended  gaily  with  a  line  from  one  of  her 
French  songs.  There  was  in  the  note,  as  in  Mimi's 
eyes,  that  strange  mingling  of  the  tragic  and  the  gay 
that  was  so  essentially  her  charm. 

Craig  had  rushed  off  to  Cannes  immediately  to 
fight  it  out  there  by  himself.  He  left  no  explana- 
tion of  his  sudden  departure  with  any  one. 

Seward  Ross  had  shaken  his  head  ominously. 

"  Craig's  going  to  pieces,"  he  said.  "  That  mad 
woman  he  has  in  Cannes  has  taken  the  best  out  of 
him  — " 

But  Bronson  had  a  swift  guess  at  other  complica- 
tions for  he  had  seen  the  little  dinner-party  the  night 
before. 

304 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"One  woman  or  another!"  he  said.  "It 
doesn't  matter.  But  the  world  hasn't  heard  the  last 
of  Craig's  escapades." 


305 


Chapter  XXIV 

Mimi !  Yes,  it  was  again  Mimi!  That  his  pas- 
sion for  her  was  still  there  Craig  had  realized 
vaguely  through  the  years.  A  pair  of  strange  eyes 
caught  in  a  crowd,  a  French  word  heard  in  passing, 
a  strain  of  Gipsy  music, —  little  things  of  the  sort 
would  bring  him  ever  and  again  a  quickened  memory. 
But  for  the  most  part  he  had  been  too  dulled,  too 
circumscribed  by  events,  to  feel  any  real  intensity  of 
regret.  Had  he  never  seen  Mimi  again,  the  old  de- 
sire, so  long  quiescent,  might  have  flickered  out 
entirely.  As  it  was,  Mimi's  immediate  presence 
fanned  it  of  a  sudden  to  a  startling  flare. 

"  Go  back  to  Cannes,"  she  had  written  and  he  had 
obeyed.  But  he  had  gone  only  to  torment  himself 
with  the  thought  of  her.  Again  that  haunting  solici- 
tude, that  fierce  urgency  of  his  need!  Mimi,  and 
she  had  sent  him  away.  Why?  Then  he  had  come 
to  realize  perhaps,  as  in  that  other  summer  years 
before,  it  was  just  Mimi's  way  of  asking  for  time. 
That  had  brought  a  sharp  hope,  an  eager  expectancy 
that  had  sufficed  to  carry  him  through  the  hot  length 
of  the  summer  months.  The  Mannings  were  still 
in  Paris;  he  kept  himself  assured  of  that  and  simply 
waited. 

But  the  quickening  of  his  interest  in  Mimi,  though 
arousing  him  at  last  from  his  apathetic  indifference, 
306 


The  Sinister  Revel 

worked  also  to  a  disastrous  end.  He  came  sud- 
denly to  hate  Flora  with  an  almost  malignant  hate. 
He  had  found  her  worse,  much  worse,  upon  his  re- 
turn to  Cannes.  His  absence  was  responsible,  for 
she  had  brooded  on  it  unceasingly.  There  was  a 
general  let-down  in  her  appearance;  it  seemed  as  if 
this  were  the  thing  Craig  could  not  endure.  She  was 
stouter,  her  skin  flaccid.  Her  yellow  hair  showed 
too  yellow;  the  rouge  was  obvious  on  her  cheek 
bones.  The  old  dignity  of  her  reserve  was  quite 
gone.  She  fawned  on  Craig,  whimpered  about  him 
like  an  animal,  fondled  him  till  he  would  strike  her 
away  from  him  in  his  exasperation.  Then  she 
would  come  creeping  back,  the  old  look  of  dumb  de- 
votion in  her  eyes;  she  would  seize  his  hand  and  kiss 
it.  How  he  loathed  her !  But  strange,  strange 
perversity,  he  spent  most  of  his  time  with  her.  He 
denied  flatly  to  Natty  and  the  Baron  that  she  was 
worse.  God!  They  tormented  him  like  gnats. 

In  October  Flora  was  taken  ill  and  nearly  died. 
Craig  suffered  intensely,  not  because  he  cared  but 
because  he  was  afraid  of  death.  He  would  have 
had  to  see  her  die;  he  knew  that,  for  he  could  not 
have  kept  away.  He  would  have  been  obliged  to 
look  upon  her  dead.  But  she  spared  him;  the  poor 
feeble  mind  struggled  back  to  life  again.  She  had 
recognized  him  first  as  he  stood  by  her  bedside,  and 
tears  of  joy  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  reached  out  for 
his  hand.  Craig  had  felt  a  wave  of  pity;  he  was 
kinder  to  her  after  that. 

307 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Two  months  of  convalescence !  The  doctors  took 
occasion  to  reason  with  Craig.  He  had  given  in 
eventually  for  he  was  weary  of  arguing. 

"  All  right !  "  he  had  said.  "  If  you  think  it  wise. 
Make  your  own  arrangements.  Perhaps  if  it  has  to 
be  done,  it  should  be  done  at  once." 

He  had  gone  to  Flora's  room  before  leaving. 
Again  that  overwhelming  sense  of  life's  waste  as  he 
stood  looking  at  her.  And  he  was  suddenly  so 
lonely. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  had  said  in  a  shaking  voice. 

She  had  sprung  to  her  feet  at  that  with  a  sharp 
little  cry.  Perhaps,  even  in  her  darkness  she  sensed 
the  separation  that  was  coming. 

"  I  am  going  away  for  a  day  or  two,"  he  fal- 
tered. 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  burst  into 
a  wild  fit  of  weeping.  He  held  her  till  her  violence 
had  spent  itself;  then,  loosening  her  hold,  and  even 
as  she  sought  still  to  cling  to  him,  he  had  turned 
hastily  and  gone  out  of  the  room. 

After  that  he  remembered  nothing  except  that  it 
was  late  at  night  and  that  he  had  been  drinking. 
He  was  in  his  lounge,  with  the  cypress  trees  outside 
brooding  to  his  own  melancholy.  He  was  bewil- 
dered and  confused.  His  thoughts  were  all  of  Mimi 
and  yet  of  Flora.  And  Jean  Poitier  haunted  him, 
for  some  unknown  reason,  with  his  strange  glazed 
eyes.  Jean  Poitier!  Another  life  wasted  in  the 
upholding  of  a  silly  ideal ! 
308 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Then,  sharply  conscious  of  a  light  footstep  on  the 
gravel  outside,  he  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  Flora  his 
first  terrified  thought.  The  French  window  swayed, 
a  slight  black-clad  figure  in  the  opening. 

It  seemed  to  Craig  that  something  in  his  fear- 
crazed  brain  snapped  short  as  the  eyes  that  looked 
into  his  revealed  themselves  as  Mimi's.  Then  in  a 
minute  he  had  her  in  his  arms.  They  kissed  each 
other;  they  clung  together. 

"  I  have  come  to  stay,"  she  murmured,  but  he 
did  not  understand.  He  knew  only  that  she  was 
there,  trembling,  eager,  there  in  his  arms  as  he  had 
wanted  her  so  long.  She  seemed  once  again  so  es- 
sentially himself,  his  passion,  his  mood,  his  unrest. 

He  kissed  her  again  and  again  in  the  joy  of  his 
disbelief.  He  took  her  hat  off  and  tossed  it  away, 
then  put  his  hand  on  her  tumbled  hair.  He  kissed 
her  slender  neck;  he  kissed  her  eyes.  He  was  boy- 
ishly, exuberantly  happy. 

"  I  have  come  to  stay,"  she  had  murmured  again. 

He  grasped  it  this  time.  Then  suddenly  seeing 
her  tired,  he  had  led  her  to  the  divan,  piled  the  pil- 
lows high  behind  her  and  seated  himself  at  her  feet. 
The  lights  were  dim  and  they  had  talked  on  and  on. 
At  first  a  little  consciously,  but  later,  warmed  by  the 
response  in  each  other's  eyes,  with  an  intensity  of 
earnestness  that  showed  the  depth  of  their  mutual 
understanding  and  sympathy.  They  spoke  of  the 
years  that  had  separated  them,  touched  on  events  in 
general  terms  though  each  knew  what  particular  ap- 

309 


The  Sinister  Revel 

plication  was  in  the  other's  thoughts.  They  both 
confessed  to  a  great  unhappiness,  a  bitter  disappoint- 
ment in  what  life  had  brought.  It  was  then  Mimi 
made  her  only  reference  to  William. 

"  He's  in  London,"  she  said.  "  I  wrote  him  I 
would  be  gone  when  he  returned  to  Paris."  She  re- 
flected a  moment.  "  I  think  William  has  come  to 
care  enough,"  she  went  on  softly,  "  almost  to  give 
me  you  if  he  thought  it  would  make  me  happy." 
She  smiled  into  Craig's  eyes  at  that.  u  He  thinks 
I  am  ill,  very  ill — "  She  sighed  a  little;  then, 
"  Perhaps  I  am,"  she  said. 

"  Ah,  no,  no !  "  Craig  cried.  His  protest  rang 
the  sharper,  for  that  very  minute  he  had  had  a  swift 
perception  that  Mimi  did  look  ill.  Her  face,  as  it 
saddened  in  the  firelight,  was  worn  and  thin.  With- 
out the  flame  of  her  beautiful  eyes  she  seemed  so 
small  and  pathetic. 

Craig  had  sprung  to  his  feet;  Mimi,  too,  rose  as 
if  to  throw  off  her  momentary  depression. 

"  I  come  to  you  —  a  waif,"  she  said  and  flashed 
at  him  her  odd  provocative  little  smile. 

His  only  answer  was  to  draw  her  to  him  gently. 
They  rested  in  the  embrace  with  all  contentment. 

Then  Mimi  had  again  sighed  softly.  "  We'll  be 
just  one  of  those  outcast  couples  doomed  to  wander 
about  the  face  of  the  earth  — " 

11  Yes,"  he  had  answered.     "  But  what  does  that 
matter?  " 
310 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  What  does  anything  matter  —  except  just 
this?"  Mimi  had  whispered. 

At  that  echo  across  the  years  from  the  sunlit 
Berkshire  lane,  Craig  had  drawn  her  with  a  sharper 
insistency  toward  him. 

"  Mimi!  "  was  all  he  could  murmur  as  he  buried 
his  flushed  face  in  her  dark  hair. 

As  Craig  looked  back  afterwards  at  the  terrible 
tragedy  of  that  night  there  seemed  to  him  no  inter- 
mediary stages  of  events.  At  the  one  moment  he 
was  holding  Mimi  in  his  arms,  their  eyes  on  the  glow 
in  the  grate.  At  the  next  — 

Startled  by  a  sob  behind  him,  he  had  turned  in  a 
sharp  terror  to  find  the  tall  white  figure  of  Flora 
at  the  window.  The  rest  was  all  a  blur, —  the  sharp 
recognition  that  she  had  a  revolver  in  her  hand, 
Mimi's  cry  of  warning,  the  shot  that  left  him  stag- 
gering and  dizzy  with  blood  on  his  cheek.  He  had 
stumbled  forward  in  a  fury  of  anger  and  pain,  but 
vaguely  aware  of  Flora,  stretching  out  her  hands  to 
him  in  an  agony  of  terror  at  what  she  had  done. 
And  there  was  Mimi  with  wide,  wild  eyes.  She  had 
stooped  quick  as  a  flash.  The  revolver  I  Good 
God! 

"  Mimi !  "  he  cried.  But  she  had  already  fired 
even  as  she  covered  her  eyes. 

Flora  gave  a  sharp  gasp,  staggered  and  then  fell 
just  as  Craig  reached  her  side.  But  in  a  second  she 
was  struggling  up  again,  her  arms  about  his  knees. 


The  Sinister  Revel 

The  old  dumb  look  of  devotion  lighted  her  eyes  that 
yet  seemed  half  blind  with  a  heavy  pain.  She  seized 
his  hand  and  drew  it  to  her  lips.  With  a  flare  of  the 
old  rage  at  her  stupidity,  he  threw  her  off  roughly. 
Then  beside  himself  at  the  horror  of  his  brutality, 
but  with  a  confused  idea  of  taking  Mimi's  guilt 
upon  himself,  he  seized  the  revolver  as  it  still  smoked 
on  the  floor  and  fired  a  direct  shot  into  Flora's  heart. 


3*2 


Part  VII 


Chapter  XXV 


The  autopsy  went  off  very  well  with  suicide  the 
verdict.  Mr.  Renway  Potter,  who  had  found  it 
rather  to  his  advantage  to  take  up  a  continental 
abode  during  the  last  two  years,  was  summoned  from 
Paris.  He  arrived  in  all  smooth  efficiency  the  day 
after  the  tragedy.  Morgan  Bleecker's  chief  solici- 
tor, Henry  Carson,  was  also  forwarded  to  the  scene 
of  action.  Suicide  and  mental  derangement;  it  was 
convincing.  Even  the  newspapers  took  the  story  in 
all  faith. 

There  was  to  creep  in,  however,  an  element  out- 
side the  nicest  legal  calculation,  an  element  that  was 
to  prove  disturbing,  startling.  The  Syrian  Serosha, 
a  menial  at  the  Villa  Rosa,  was  discovered  as  hav- 
ing a  very  ugly  story  to  tell.  Moreover,  he  was 
discovered  as  actually  telling  it.  He  had  seen  Flora 
leave  the  house  the  night  of  her  death,  and  had  fol- 
lowed with  an  eye  to  her  protection.  The  man  was 
a  fanatic,  of  course,  obsessed  by  a  strange  worship 
for  his  fair-haired  mistress.  So  horror-stricken  was 
he  at  what  he  had  witnessed,  so  almost  crazed,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  meet  him  on  any  ground  of  rea- 
sonable adjustment.  Natty  did  his  utmost;  Mr. 
Potter  argued.  But  the  man  went  on  talking.  His 
very  incoherence  carried  conviction.  He  talked  in 

315 


The  Sinister  Revel 

his  wild  way  and  with  graphic  gesticulation  to  the 
other  servants  at  the  Villa  Rosa.  He  was  ejected 
forcibly  from  the  house.  He  talked  the  length  of 
the  Rue  d'Antibes  to  the  shop-keepers.  He  talked 
to  the  authorities.  It  was  most  unfortunate ;  it  was 
most  awkward.  Mr.  Potter  lost  his  head;  Mr.  Car- 
son floundered  helplessly.  Natty  made  evil  sugges- 
tions. The  people  began  to  mutter;  the  newspapers, 
given  the  cue,  were  sarcastic.  Serosha  continued  to 
talk.  The  authorities  of  a  sudden  became  fussily 
busy  —  over  something  else.  There  was  the  matter 
of  the  Comtesse  Ferraud,  who  had  been  robbed  in 
the  train  on  her  way  to  Monaco.  It  was  an  unusual 
case  and  required  much  attention.  But  no,  the  peo- 
ple were  not  to  be  distracted.  Flora's  death  had 
taken  hold,  of  a  dramatic  grip.  There  was  a  demon- 
stration against  Craig  in  the  public  square  one  night. 
A  procession  marched  to  his  house  and  shouted  and 
jeered.  He  was  burned  in  effigy;  he  was  denounced 
from  the  pulpits.  The  matter  was  becoming  ur- 
gent. 

"  Get  away,"  Mr.  Potter  insisted. 

"  At  once,"  Mr.  Carson  supplemented. 

But  Craig  was  sick,  utterly  prostrated,  and  could 
be  brought  to  no  decision  whatever. 

"  How  about  the  Idler?  "  suggested  Natty. 

The  Idler  was  up  for  repairs  at  Marseilles. 
They  wired. 

Then  the  authorities,  pushed  by  public  opinion, 
suddenly  discovered  this  awful  thing  that  had  been 


The  Sinister  Revel 

perpetrated  in  their  midst.  They  held  up  their 
hands  in  horror;  their  moral  indignation  threatened 
to  run  away  with  them.  An  investigation  was  duly 
instituted  and  Craig  was  arraigned. 

The  trial  was  listed  at  Nice  some  weeks  later, 
probably  the  most  spectacular  thing  of  its  kind  since 
the  Poitier  scandal.  Craig's  lawyers  held  out  for  a 
private  hearing,  but  public  feeling  was  too  high  to 
allow  of  discrimination.  By  a  strange  accident  of 
circumstance,  the  trial  took  place  the  day  after  the 
Mi-Careme  carnival.  The  people,  as  always  re- 
luctant to  give  up  their  fun,  were  still  in  costume, 
crowding  the  streets.  Excitement  was  running 
high ;  the  mob  showed  itself  of  a  vicious  turn.  Craig 
was  recognized  with  a  yell  as  his  motor  swung  in 
from  the  Rue  d'Antibes.  A  stone  rattled  against  the 
side  of  the  car.  Another  and  another,  then  a  veri- 
table hail  of  them ! 

Mr.  Carson  talked  on  casually.  Mr.  Potter  had 
presence  of  mind  enough  to  draw  the  curtains  of  the 
limousine.  But  not  before  Craig  had  glimpsed  the 
sardonic  crowd  that  terrified  him  the  more  for  its 
grotesque  array.  Fantastic  creatures;  distorted 
bodies;  calsimined,  grinning  faces  — 

The  car  drew  up  at  the  court  house;  the  mob  had 
concentrated  there.  As  Craig  alighted,  trembling, 
dead  white,  a  great  red  scar  on  his  left  cheek,  a 
shriek  of  execretion  went  up.  He  shut  his  eyes 
and  was  seen  to  sway.  But  the  police  had  calculated 
on  trouble ;  they  were  there  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the 

317 


The  Sinister  Revel 

crowd's  first  wild  dash,  to  force  the  people  back  step 
by  step,  as  they  jostled  and  jeered  and  mocked.  Mr. 
Potter  put  his  hand  on  Craig's  arm  and  guided  him 
slowly  up  the  steps  of  the  court  house. 

Inside  there  were  the  same  confusion  of  shouts, 
the  same  sinister  faces  that  seemed  to  sway  and  blur. 
It  was  hot,  stifling  hot.  Craig  thought  he  was  going 
to  faint,  but  some  one  held  a  glass  to  his  lips.  He 
drank  and  steadied  himself.  But  always  the  threat- 
ening cries  outside,  the  ugly  mutterings  about  him, 
the  sea  of  evil  faces  — 

"  It'll  come  out  all  right."  So  Mr.  Carson  had 
assured  him;  so  Morgan  Bleecker,  himself,  had  said 
in  all  confidence  as,  on  a  fleeting  visit  the  day  before, 
he  had  sought  to  put  a  little  cheer  into  his  young 
friend's  heart. 

"  It'll  come  out  all  right."  Yes,  Craig  knew  that, 
but  the  old  instinctive  terror  of  the  crowd  was  there 
and  would  always  be  there.  That  and  the  horror 
of  the  thing  he  had  done. 

He  had  tried  to  tell  his  story  but  had  broken  down 
in  the  midst  of  it.  Whereupon  Mr.  Potter,  pleading 
ill  health  on  the  part  of  his  client,  had  taken  the 
stand  and  presented  the  case  directly. 

On  the  night  of  the  tragedy  Mr.  Van  Dam  had 
been  entertaining  at  dinner  the  Baron  de  Croisic  and 
Mademoiselle  Ghanzita.  After  dinner,  as  they 
were  adjourning  to  the  lounge,  the  Baron  had 
stopped  in  the  hall  to  exchange  a  few  words  with 
Nathaniel  Weyburn,  Mr.  Van  Dam's  trainer,  in  re- 
3-8 


The  Sinister  Revel 

gard  to  the  purchase  of  a  new  horse.  Mr.  Van 
Dam  and  Mademoiselle  Ghanzita  had  passed  into 

the  lounge.  As  they  stood  before  the  fireplace 

Mr.  Van  Dam  lighting  a  cigarette  for  his  companion 
—  the  woman,  Flora  Hardy,  whose  mind  had  been 
deranged  for  over  a  year,  entered  by  the  French  win- 
dow and  fired  at  Mademoiselle  Ghanzita.  The  aim 
missed,  the  bullet  striking  Mr.  Van  Dam  on  the 
cheek.  He  had  cried  out  and  the  woman,  Flora 
Hardy,  thinking  she  had  killed  him,  had  turned  the 
revolver  on  herself.  The  Baron  de  Croisic  and  Mr. 
Weyburn  had  arrived  on  the  scene  just  in  time  to  wit- 
ness the  final  act. 

It  made  an  excellent  story  and  hung  together  well. 
There  were  a  half-dozen  doctors  most  eager  to  tes- 
tify to  Flora's  mental  condition,  to  previous  attempts 
she  had  made  upon  her  own  life.  The  Baron  was 
ready  with  easy  corroboration  of  every  detail.  So 
was  Natty.  So  was  Ghanzita. 

Jealousy  was  alleged  by  Mr.  Potter  as  Flora's 
motive.  On  that  implication  Ghanzita  felt  perfectly 
secure  of  her  next  opera  season.  Managers  were 
already  wiring  from  Paris;  a  cable  had  been  forth- 
coming from  New  York.  She  had  been  paid  a  royal 
price  by  a  Monte  Carlo  modiste  to  sport  a  particu- 
larly superb  costume  at  the  trial. 

Well,  what  was  there  to  do?  The  evidence  was 
quite  convincing.  Monsieur  le  Baron,  smooth,  pol- 
ished, suave,  represented  the  best  tradition  of  Riviera 
aristocracy.  What  chance  had  the  squalid,  uncanny 

3*9 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Serosha  in  contending  with  him?  Noblesse  oblige. 
So  the  authorities  construed  it;  so  the  jury  read  it. 

Not  guilty ! 

But  the  crowd  was  controlled  by  no  tradition. 

There  was  a  cry  of  rage  as  the  verdict  was  ren- 
dered. They  had  been  tricked.  In  a  second  the 
court  house  was  a  seething,  yelling,  shouting  mass  of 
humanity.  Craig  had  managed  to  get  to  his  feet, 
then  closing  his  eyes  to  the  menace  of  the  onslaught 
he  had  fallen  prostrate,  unconscious. 

It  was  quite  dark  as  Craig  left  the  place  that  night. 
The  police  had  driven  the  crowd  away,  arresting  the 
most  troublesome  ones.  But  there  still  lingered  out- 
side a  few  incorrigibles.  There  was  one  clown,  the 
ring-leader.  Craig  had  been  intensely  aware  of  his 
grinning  face  from  the  beginning.  It  had  been  there 
to  mock  him  as  he  left  his  motor;  it  had  pressed  close 
as  he  fainted.  And  now,  as  he  came  down  the 
steps,  it  was  there  lurking  beside  him,  the  more 
ghastly  for  the  lurid  light  of  a  red  torch  brandished 
high  in  the  air.  There  were  other  torches  blurring 
the  darkness,  other  fantastic  painted  faces  — 

Craig  had  hestitated  weakly,  but  the  police  urged 
him  on.  This  time  there  was  no  shouting,  only  a 
sinister  muttering,  the  uglier  in  that  it  held  an  ele- 
ment of  cowed  defeat. 

Then  suddenly  the  clown  had  begun  to  execute 
some  grotesque  steps.  A  laugh  went  up.  Craig 
had  stood  still,  unwittingly,  and  looked  at  him. 
320 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Whereupon  the  creature  had  pointed  his  finger  at 
him  in  mock  terror. 

"  Jettatura!  "  he  cried  harshly.  The  crowd  took 
up  the  imprecation  with  a  yelp. 

A  stone  was  picked  up  and  thrown.  But  the  gen- 
darmes were  already  striking  out  this  way  and  that. 

The  clown  made  an  obscene  gesture. 

Some  one  struck  him  across  the  face.  With  a 
whimper  of  pain  he  had  cowered;  then,  with  a  last 
look  of  malignant  hatred  at  Craig,  he  had  slunk  off. 
The  mob,  without  their  leader,  lost  courage.  They 
turned,  disorganized,  and  fled  away,  their  torches 
flickering  out  in  the  distance. 

A  minute  after,  there  was  the  bang  of  a  motor 
door. 

"Rather  a  nice  night!"  said  Mr.  Potter  as  a 
little  later  they  were  speeding  along  the  Rue  d'An- 
tibes. 

Mr.  Carson  likewise  put  his  head  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Jolly!  "  he  pronounced. 

"  A  cigar?  "  suggested  Mr.  Potter. 

The  two  men  proceeded  to  light  up.  By  the  fitful 
flicker  of  the  match  they  caught  one  glimpse  of  their 
companion,  huddled  helplessly  in  a  corner,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  lawyers  met. 

Mr.  Potter  shook  his  head. 

"  Thanks  awfully,"  said  Mr.  Carson. 

321 


The  Sinister  Revel 

After  that  there  was  silence. 

A  week  later  Craig  went  on  board  the  Idler,  tak- 
ing only  Simpson  with  him.  Mr.  Carson  and  Mr. 
Potter  went  down  to  the  dock  to  see  him  off.  Craig 
was  still  ghastly  white,  his  dark  eyes  aglitter.  The 
men  shook  hands  with  him,  touched  casually  on  this 
topic  or  that. 

"  I've  never  been  to  Egypt,"  Mr.  Potter  said. 

"  Where  did  you  say  we  could  reach  you?  "  Mr. 
Carson  asked. 

"  The  Savoy,  Cairo !  "  Craig  answered  dully. 
"  I'll  keep  in  touch  with  Morgan  Bleecker  — " 

Mr.  Potter  was  diligently  perusing  the  yacht  rid- 
ing at  anchor. 

"Were  your  deck  rails  always  that  colour?  "  he 
asked  with  the  air  of  one  deep  versed  in  yachting 
craft. 

Craig  nodded. 

The  launch  was  waiting. 

"  Well  — "  said  Craig  uncertainly. 

Again  Mr.  Potter  and  Mr.  Carson  shook  hands 
with  him  officiously.  Good  wishes  were  in  order. 

Craig  and  Simpson  got  into  the  launch,  which 
shoved  off  at  once.  The  two  men  left  behind 
watched  it  ply  its  trig  way  to  the  side  of  the  Idler. 
They  could  easily  distinguish  the  two  figures  as  they 
climbed  up  the  side.  Mr.  Potter  waved.  Some  one 
waved  back;  it  was  Simpson. 

A  minute  later  the  beautiful  yacht,  poised  like  a 
322 


The  Sinister  Revel 

bird  for  flight,  gave  herself  up  gracefully  to  the  di- 
rection of  her  white  wings. 

Mr.  Carson  and  Mr.  Potter  watched  till  there 
was  only  a  faint  outline  in  the  blue  distance.  Then 
they  turned  simultaneously  and  started  to  walk  back 
up  the  quay. 

"  Is  he  going  alone?  "  Mr.  Carson  asked. 

Mr.  Potter  was  busy  cutting  the  end  from  his  cigar 
with  an  elaborate  gold  cutter. 

"  No,"  he  brought  out  at  last.  "  She's  going  to 
join  him  at  Frejus." 

"Mrs.  Manning?" 

"  Yes.  It's  only  twenty  miles  up  the  coast. 
Natty  whisked  her  off  the  night  of  the  rumpus." 

"  Oh,"  Mr.  Carson  reflected.  "  Has  he  seen  her 
since?" 

Mr.  Potter  shook  his  head.  "  He's  been  too 
ill  — " 

"  An  ugly  mix-up  I  "  Mr.  Carson  commented. 
Then  after  a  pause,  "  Hardly  my  idea  of  a  starter 
for — "  he  indicated  the  azure  waters  in  the  dis- 
tance, "  for  a  yachting  trip  a  deux!  " 

They  could  both  laugh  at  that. 

"  You  know,  I'm  hungry  — "  Mr.  Potter  was  ir- 
relevant. "  What  do  you  say  to  a  run  to  Monte 
Carlo  this  afternoon?  Dinner  at  the  Hotel  de 
Paris—" 

"  And  a  little  play  afterwards,"  supplemented 
Mr.  Carson. 

323 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  We  can  stay  on  a  while  at  Craig's.  He's  going 
to  keep  the  house.  Natty  might  give  us  a  pointer 
or  two.  And  the  Baron  — " 

Mr.  Carson  showed  himself  open  to  suggestion. 

"  I  can  well  afford  a  vacation  now,"  he  said. 
"  Capital  idea !  Just  look  at  that  Mimosa  tree  over 
there  — " 

"  Isn't  the  air  gorgeous?  "  Mr.  Potter  was  dis- 
covered as  breathing  deeply. 

One  last  look  out  into  the  clear  blue  of  the  Medi- 
terranean, that  seemed  almost  as  one  with  the  blue 
of  the  sky,  and  our  two  estimable  lawyers  turned  up 
a  side  street  and  were  lost  to  sight. 


324 


Chapter  XXVI 


"  There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun  and  another  glory 
of  the  moon."  So  Mimi  had  murmured  in  her 
whimsical  way  that  night  as  she  and  Craig  had  stood 
looking  into  the  fire. 

"  We  will  tire,"  she  had  said,  but  he  covered  her 
mouth  with  kisses. 

"  /  will  tire,"  she  had  corrected  with  her  strange 
smile. 

It  was  but  her  way  of  discounting  his  obligations. 
Yet  it  was  quite  true  that  theirs  was  a  bond  of  the 
flesh,  an  attraction  of  mood,  but  of  such  an  unusual 
potency  that  under  fair  conditions  it  might  have  en- 
dured, and  brilliantly,  to  all  time.  As  it  was,  this 
love  of  theirs,  this  passion,  was  not  big  enough  to 
survive  the  shock  of  their  crime.  In  the  weeks  of 
separation  directly  following  the  tragedy  each 
longed  wildly  for  the  other  as  the  only  possible  com- 
fort in  a  world  of  crowded  horror.  They  had  gone 
off  on  the  yacht  with  the  misconceived  belief  that  in 
each  other's  arms  they  might  forget  their  wretched- 
ness. Instead,  they  found  the  pain  of  their  guilt  only 
intensified  as  they  clung  together. 

Flora's  revenge  proved  a  neat  one.  Not  once 
did  they  lose  the  haunting  sense  of  her  presence. 
She  was  there  in  the  long  days  of  brilliant  blue  as 

325 


The  Sinister  Revel 

they  sat  on  deck  and  tried  to  talk.  She  was  there  in 
the  dark  hours  of  the  night  as  they  lay,  restless  and 
wide-eyed,  waiting  for  the  morning. 

Alessandria  at  last!  They  went  on  to  Cairo. 
Cairo  with  its  jagged  shadows  and  white,  white  sun- 
shine !  They  wandered  about  for  awhile  among 
the  fantastic  shops  where  the  glowing  things  dis- 
played seemed  instinct  with  fragrance  and  light  and 
beauty.  They  roused  themselves  to  an  inconsequent 
interest  in  it  all, —  the  mixture  of  tongues  and  creeds, 
and  faces  of  many  colours. 

But  they  soon  grew  tired  of  the  town  with  its  rest- 
less throng. 

"  Let's  ride  out  over  the  desert,"  Mimi  had  sug- 
gested. So  they  wandered  far,  over  the  yellow 
dunes  that  stretched  to  the  sky  line.  They  slept  out 
under  the  stars,  and  watched  the  morning  break. 
Deep  crimson  stains  in  the  fawn-coloured  mist! 
There  were  storms  and  they  huddled  in  their  tent  for 
days.  So  strangely  out  of  the  world  they  seemed; 
the  silent  white-clad  figures  of  the  Arabs  in  their 
caravan  were  like  ghosts,  not  fellow-men. 

"  Let's  go  back,"  Mimi  had  said  at  last  with  a 
little  shiver.  So  they  retraced  their  steps.  They 
took  a  house  this  time  out  toward  the  Khedivial. 
They  went  up  the  Nile  as  far  as  Assouan  in  a 
dahabeah. 

So  the  weeks  passed  into  months.  Summer  found 
the  Idler  in  northern  waters.  But  Mimi  didn't  like 
Norway.  Then  they  wandered  to  the  Tyrol. 

326 


The  Sinister  Revel 

At  length,  by  an  odd  perversity  Craig  had  sug- 
gested Cannes. 

Mimi  had  given  him  a  startled  look.  Then 
"  Very  well,"  she  said,  and  there  was  an  odd  little 
quaver  in  her  voice.  "  After  all,  the  thing  we  are 
running  away  from  is  in  ourselves.  We  might  as 
well  be  there  as  anywhere." 

"  Mimi,"  he  had  cried  sharply.  It  was  the  first 
open  recognition  of  the  fact  that  their  life  together 
had  been  a  failure.  Their  relation  so  intense  of 
promise  had  become  but  an  ignoble  compromise,  a 
sham,  a  pretence.  Had  they  been  quite  honest  with 
each  other  in  the  beginning  they  would  have  been 
far  happier.  The  affection  that  takes  root  in  a  dead 
passion  may  be  made  a  beautiful  and  tender  thing. 
But  Craig  and  Mimi  were  to  find  that  out  too  late, 
after  the  worst  in  them  had  been  sounded  by  the 
daily  struggle  to  live  up  to  an  emotion  they  did  not 
feel.  Their  passion  had  been  such  a  vivid  thing; 
they  could  not,  would  not  believe  that  it  was  dead. 

As  Mimi  had  boarded  the  yacht  that  night  at 
Frejus  Craig  had  been  unable  to  understand  the  sin- 
gular apathy  of  his  attitude.  The  beautiful  Medi- 
terranean night,  the  woman  whose  kisses  had  stayed 
strangely  on  his  lips  during  all  the  wretched  weeks 
that  had  separated  them  !  He  had  watched  dully  as 
the  little  launch  left  the  yacht,  watched  dully  as  it 
returned,  a  slight  black-clad  figure  in  the  bow.  She 
had  a  veil  fastened  across  the  lower  part  of  her  face, 
so  only  the  eyes  were  visible,  the  wild,  tense  eyes. 

327 


The  Sinister  Revel 

But  he  felt  no  response  to  the  eagerness  he  read  in 
them  as  they  rested  with  their  peculiar  gleam  in  his. 
He  led  her  to  the  salon,  then  awkwardly  took  her  in 
his  arms.  She  had  drawn  back  a  little  as  he  did  so. 
Feeling  that  perhaps  she  guessed  his  indifference,  he 
had  pretended  to  a  quick  flare  of  passion  as  he  drew 
her  sharply  to  him  and  kissed  her  eyes. 

That  had  been  their  beginning.  It  was  tragic, 
tragic!  But  they  blundered  on  stupidly,  hoping, 
waiting,  concealing  and  forever  acting.  Disagree- 
ments, discords,  misunderstandings  were  the  inevita- 
ble outcome  of  their  high-strung,  ill-directed  in- 
tensity, of  a  passion  too  little  felt,  too  often  forced ! 

As  time  went  on  Craig  found  himself  becoming  the 
victim  of  a  strange  illusion;  he  came  to  lose  all  sense 
of  Mimi's  soft  charm,  came  to  see  her  entirely  as 
she  had  stood  before  him  the  night  of  the  tragedy, 
wild-eyed,  of  a  demoniac  violence.  He  saw  her  as 
the  embodiment  of  his  own  guilt,  of  his  own  treacher- 
ous cruelty.  He  came,  almost,  when  he  had  been 
drinking  to  excess,  to  look  upon  her  with  a  certain 
horror.  She  represented  the  thing,  the  evil  in  him- 
self he  was  trying  to  deny.  And  all  the  while  he 
must  needs  act  the  lover,  must  exert  himself  to  play 
the  role  with  conviction. 

Another  point  that  made  his  task  the  more  diffi- 
cult —  Craig  had  discovered  very  early,  even  as  they 
first  were  crossing  the  Mediterranean,  that  Mimi  was 
addicted  to  drugs.  She  had  pleaded  a  headache  one 
day  and  gone  below.  The  hours  passed,  but  he  did 

328 


The  Sinister  Revel 

not  disturb  her,  thinking  her  asleep.  Dinner-time 
found  her  still  absent.  He  went  to  her,  solicitous 
and  tender.  The  eyes  that  opened  to  his  were  heavy 
and  yet  so  bright;  the  voice  that  asked  plaintively 
that  he  let  her  alone  seemed  so  far  away.  Craig 
had  stood  horror-stricken  a  minute  as  the  truth 
flashed  upon  him.  Then  he  had  turned  quickly  and 
plunged  out  on  deck.  The  revulsion  had  been  a 
sharp  one.  So  that  was  the  secret  of  her  ill  health, 
that  the  reason  for  William's  tolerance.  Mimi's 
words,  "  He  cares  enough  to  give  me  even  you  to 
make  me  happy — "  rang  with  a  new  significance 
now. 

He  had  gone  without  dinner  that  night,  stayed  on 
deck  and  fought  it  out.  At  length,  with  the  thought 
of  Jean  Poitier,  a  wave  of  pity  had  swept  him.  Poor 
Mimi,  how  little  responsible  after  all!  So  he  had 
tried  to  be  patient,  so  patient.  He  talked  to  her  in 
all  fairness,  asked  her  to  put  away  the  drug  for  his 
sake.  She  would  listen  with  a  peculiar  light  in  her 
eyes;  she  would  promise  or  she  wouldn't  promise. 
Craig  came  to  find  it  made  little  difference  which,  for 
he  would  surprise  her  ever  and  again  with  heavy 
eyes,  and  limp,  damp  hands.  She  began  to  shut  her- 
self away  for  two  or  three  days  at  a  stretch. 

As  the  months  passed  Craig's  repugnance  in- 
creased;  the  moments  when  pity  and  consideration 
held  him  grew  fewer  and  fewer.  So  obsessed  was 
he  by  his  own  unhappiness,  his  own  wretchedness,  he 
was  unable  to  take  a  reasonable  view  of  Mimi's  atti- 

329 


The  Sinister  Revel 

tude.  He  saw  her  blindly,  senselessly,  following  a 
course  of  erratic  shame.  He  grew  harsh  with  her; 
the  scenes  between  them  were  unpleasant  and  bitter. 
Craig  was  thrown  back  upon  drink,  Mimi  upon  her 
drugs;  both  upon  the  intense  consciousness  of  their 
crime  to  which  their  passion  had  been  forfeit. 

The  suggestion  that  they  go  back  to  Cannes  was 
made  by  Craig  in  a  fit  of  desperation.  It  proved  a 
fortunate  one,  however,  in  that  in  its  consideration 
the  two  faced  each  other  for  the  first  time  squarely 
and  honestly. 

Mimi's  words,  "  The  thing  we  are  running  away 
from  is  in  ourselves,"  had  brought  Craig  up  short. 
But  in  his  perversity  he  chose  to  misconstrue  her 
meaning.  Quite  brutally  he  had  pointed  out  to  her 
the  sordidness  of  her  habit.  If  she  was  unhappy, 
she  alone  was  to  blame.  He  expected  the  usual  de- 
fiance. Instead,  she  only  closed  her  eyes  and  the 
tears  trickled  down  her  cheeks.  His  anger  broke; 
she  seemed  so  wan  and  ill. 

"  It  was  the  only  way,"  she  almost  whispered  at 
last,  "  the  only  way  when  I  was  first  married.'" 

"  And  it  is  the  only  way  now,"  she  was  saying, 
"to  forget  this  last  dreadful  thing — " 

But  Craig  had  her  in  his  arms  and  was  kissing  her 
wildly. 

"Mimi!"  he  cried.     "Mimi!" 

Of  a  sudden  the  old  resentment,  the  horror,  had 
given  way;  in  its  place  was  an  infinite  tenderness,  a 
sharp  contrition. 

330 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  I  am  to  blame,"  was  all  he  could  say.  "  I  have 
been  to  blame  from  the  beginning." 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured  sadly.     "  Yes." 

They  clung  together  helplessly  and  Craig  for  the 
first  time  began  to  understand. 

How  blind,  how  selfish  he  had  been!  What  a 
wreck  of  things  he'd  made ! 

It  was  for  Mimi  to  act  the  comforter  now,  to 
laugh  away  his  gloom,  and  cheer  him  with  her  erratic 
whimsies. 

"  We  will  begin  over  again,"  he  said. 

"  We  will  begin  over  again,"  Mimi  repeated. 

Craig  put  his  hand  on  her  hair;  their  eyes  met. 

He  kissed  her. 

"  We  will  never  begin  over  again,"  Mimi  said 
with  a  sigh.  "  The  world  credits  us  with  being 
lovers.  We  lack  sufficient  courage  not  to  be.  Yet 
that  would  be  the  only  way." 

Craig  knew  she  spoke  the  truth,  yet  he  could  still 
protest. 

"  It  means  nothing  to  either  of  us,"  she  went 
on. 

"  Don't,  Mimi,  don't  I  "  he  said  sharply. 

She  put  her  tiny  hand  out  to  stay  his  as  it  stroked 
her  cheek. 

"  If  it  were  the  only  way  we  could  work  out  for 
ourselves  a  little  happiness,  what  then?  " 

"No,  no!"  he  cried  almost  violently.  "It 
couldn't  be.  It  couldn't  be." 

"  To  go  on  and  on  and  on,"  she  mused,  "  follow- 

331 


The  Sinister  Revel 

ing  the  phantom  of  a  passion  that  might  have 
been  — " 

"  I  haven't  the  courage  to  give  it  up,"  he  said. 
"  I  haven't  the  courage  to  give  it  up." 

He  raised  her  face  to  his  and  kissed  her  lips. 

She  drooped  a  little.     Then,  brightening, 

"  We  haven't,"  she  murmured.  Then,  brushing 
her  cheek  lightly  against  his,  she  evaded  his  embrace 
and  left  him. 

They  went  back  to  Cannes,  but,  although  their 
relation  was  now  based  on  the  more  solid  ground  of 
understanding,  the  absolute  solitude  in  which  they 
lived  threw  them  so  intensely  upon  each  other  that 
their  small  reserve  force  of  patience  was  consumed 
at  a  fearfully  prodigal  rate.  They  were  both  too 
nervous,  too  highly  strung  to  endure  for  long  the 
drain  of  personality  upon  personality  as  necessi- 
tated by  complete  isolation.  The  tenderness  was 
there,  the  more  insistently  so,  strange  to  say,  as  the 
old  irritations  and  disagreements  began  to  assert 
themselves  once  again. 

Only  one  way,  and  they  didn't  have  the  courage 
to  take  it !  Rather,  they  forced  themselves  to  ex- 
cesses that  left  them  the  easier  prey  to  their  discon- 
tent. And  always  the  phantom  eluded  them,  vexing, 
tormenting  — 

Again  Craig  took  refuge  in  drink,  Mimi  in  her 
drugs. 

The  weeks  passed,  the  months. 

"How  will  it  all  end?"  Mimi  had  cried  in 
332 


The  Sinister  Revel 

desperation  one  day.  "How  will  it  all  end?" 
How  would  it  end?  That  thought  haunted 
Craig,  hammered  in  his  brain  incessantly.  It  seemed 
at  times  as  if  they  could  not  go  on  together.  And 
yet,  a  hint  that  they  separate,  and  loneliness,  an  infi- 
nite loneliness  would  sweep  him.  No,  they  must  go 
on  for  always  and  always,  whatever  their  unhappi- 
ness. 

Then  there  was  Natty  forever  at  his  elbow.  He 
had  come  to  loathe  Natty,  but  Natty,  quite  secure 
of  his  grip  now,  could  not  be  disposed  of  as  casually 
as  in  the  old  days.  He  resented  Mimi's  influence 
and  talked  of  other  women. 

"  Leave  me  alone,"  Craig  said  dully.  "  I'm 
through  with  all  that." 

Serosha,  too,  had  reappeared  and,  whining,  com- 
plaining, dirty,  demanded  money.  He  could  not 
get  work;  he  was  starving;  he  was  sick.  The  popu- 
lace, fickle  as  always,  had  turned  and  were  now  de- 
riding him  as  a  crazy  fanatic. 

"  Buy  him  off.  Get  rid  of  him,  for  God's  sake  1  " 
Craig  said. 

"  Back  to  Beirut  for  him,"  Natty  decided.  So 
Serosha  was  duly  disposed  of. 

But  after  all,  it  made  little  difference,  for  Serosha 
was  but  one  of  the  many  shadows  Craig,  in  a  sense 
of  perverse  bravado,  had  come  back  to  lay.  The 
place  seemed  full  of  strange  fears,  indefinable  de- 
pressions — 

There  had  come  at  the  end  of  that  first  year  in 

333 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Cannes     a    peremptory    summons    from    Morgan 
Bleecker. 

"  You  have  been  neglecting  too  long  your  affairs. 
Come  to  Paris,  it  is  urgent." 

So  he  had  gone  to  a  week  of  tedious  business  and 
legal  detail.  Only  one  incident  remained  in  his 
memory. 

Morgan  Bleecker  had  found  him  singularly  moody 
and  attempted  to  draw  him  out. 

"  Are  you  and  Mimi  happy?  "  he  had  asked,  his 
hand  on  Craig's  shoulder  with  true  fatherly  kindness. 

The  question  probed  deep;  Craig  winced.  He 
had  drawn  himself  up  stiffly,  then  turned  away. 
He  could  not  meet  it.  Morgan  Bleecker's  hand 
dropped  rather  ineffectually  to  his  side.  Craig  was 
the  devil  to  understand,  not  at  all  like  his  father. 
Well,  let  him  go,  fight  the  thing  out  by  himself. 

He  turned  to  his  desk.  "  Now,  as  to  the  matter 
of  this  railroad  stock  — " 

Craig  had  a  sharp  pang  of  contrition;  he  had  not 
meant  the  rebuff.  Morgan  Bleecker  had  been  his 
father's  friend,  had  been  his  friend.  Craig  floun- 
dered about,  struggled  stupidly  to  indicate  he  had 
not  meant  to  fend  him  off  in  his  sympathetic  inter- 
est. But  he  could  not  find  the  right  words.  The 
interview  had  ended  coldly,  of  strictly  business  tone. 
Only  as  they  had  shaken  hands  Morgan  Bleecker 
said, 

"  If  at  any  time  I  can  help  you  —  for  your  fa- 
ther's sake  — " 
334 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Craig  had  muttered  a  surly  thanks  and  rushed 
away.  But  the  incident  served  to  intensify  his  al- 
ready tragic  realization  that  the  issue  between  him 
and  Mimi  was  approaching  a  dramatic  settlement. 
The  perspective  their  few  days'  separation  had 
brought  disclosed  only  chaos  and  wreckage. 

"How  will  it  all  end?"  Mimi's  strange  eyes  and 
worn  face  rose  to  confront  him.  Again  that  infinite 
tenderness  that  took  into  account  nothing  except  their 
being  together!  So  he  had  hastened  back  to  Cannes, 
impatient,  sad,  eager,  denying  everything  but  his 
intense  need  of  human  companionship,  whatever  it 
entailed  of  misery  and  wretchedness. 

It  was  for  Simpson  to  welcome  him  back  with  his 
usual  genial  warmth.  Simpson  had  been  the  one 
bright  spot  in  his  life  during  all  these  years  on  the 
continent.  Poor  old  Simpson!  He  had  gone  to 
pieces  utterly  the  night  of  the  tragedy.  It  was  only 
in  solicitude  for  him  that  Craig  had  been  able  to  lose 
the  sense  of  his  own  catastrophe.  The  old  man  had 
pulled  through  eventually  with  humble  apologies  for 
the  untoward  trouble  he  had  caused,  but  he  seemed 
to  have  aged  and  was  almost  feeble  from  that  time 
on.  He  could  still  bring  himself  to  a  wondrous 
cheer,  however,  as  he  came  to  gauge  with  the 
weeks  the  extent  of  his  young  master's  unhappi- 
ness. 

So  now,  upon  Craig's  return  from  Paris,  it  was 
Simpson  who  was  waiting  at  the  door  for  him.  A 
little  of  the  old  formality  of  their  relation  had 

335 


The  Sinister  Revel 

slipped  away.  The  two  had  gone  upstairs  together, 
slowly,  for  Simpson  had  to  be  helped. 

"  I'm  leaning  'eavy  now,"  the  old  man  panted,  at 
which  Craig  protested,  "  Not  a  bit  of  it!  " 

"  It's  been  h' awful  lonesome  like !  "  Simpson  ram- 
bled on.  "  And  'ow's  Paris  ?  " 

Craig  gossiped  about  Paris  and  Morgan  Bleecker. 
Simpson  was  delighted  that  Morgan  Bleecker  still 
remembered  him  and  had  sent  his  best  regards. 

"  Your  father  now  and  Mr.  Bleecker  —  They 
did  'ave  great  times,  in  the  old  days  — "  Then  as 
if  to  offer  Craig  a  crumb  of  comfort,  "  And  they  both 
turned  out  respectable-like." 

Craig  showed  his  amusement.  "  So  you  think 
there's  hope  for  me,  eh,  Simpy?  "  he  laughed. 

Simpson  laughed,  too.  They'd  reached  Craig's 
room  by  now.  As  Simpson  proceeded  with  all  care 
to  shut  the  door  Craig  knew  revelations  of  one  sort 
or  another  were  due. 

"  What's  the  news?  "  he  asked,  giving  the  cue. 

"  Nothing,"  Simpson  answered.  Then,  as  if  by 
way  of  an  afterthought,  "  She  'ad  a  letter  two  days 
ago." 

Craig  was  silent. 

"  She's  been  in  there  ever  since  you  left,"  Simpson 
went  on,  indicating  a  door  leading  to  the  next  room. 
"  'Asn't  stirred." 

Craig  frowned  at  that.  And  yet,  it  was  just  as 
he  had  expected. 

336 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  That's  why  it  was  so  jolly  for  'er  to  get  a  letter, 
to  sort  of  take  'er  attention  like." 

"  Yes,"  said  Craig. 

"  The  letter  was  from  Paris,"  Simpson  went  on. 
"  I  thought  at  first  it  was  from  you.  H'only  it 
wasn't  your  'andwriting." 

Silence.  Simpson  shambled  into  the  bath  room. 
A  sound  was  heard  as  of  a  tub  in  preparation. 

Simpson  came  to  the  door  and  leaned  against  the 
jamb. 

"  Big  'ard  writing!  "  he  threw  out.  Then  as  if 
something  must  be  done  to  rouse  Craig  from  his  un- 
seemly apathy,  "  Clemence  says,"  he  brought  out 
very  slowly  and  deliberately,  "  that  the  letter  was 
from  Mr.  Manning." 

"Oh!"  That  did  bring  Craig  around.  But 
even  as  he  stood,  a  slow  speculation  in  his  eyes,  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door  leading  to  the  next  room 
and  in  a  second  Mimi  was  standing  on  the  threshold. 
She  was  in  a  tea-gown  of  her  own  Sienna,  a  long 
slink  thing,  that  made  her  taller  than  she  was.  She 
presented  a  brilliant  picture,  with  her  hair  piled  high, 
her  face  flushed,  her  dark  eyes  burning. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  the  light!  "  she  exclaimed,  and  put 
her  hand  over  her  eyes.  "  I  have  been  lying  down 
in  the  dark." 

Craig  had  felt  a  quick  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  her 
and  had  taken  a  step  forward.  But  at  her  words 
he  had  stopped  short,  the  old  protest  in  his  heart. 

337 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Mimi !  "  he  said.     "  Why  do  you  do  it?  " 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  sat  looking  at 
her.  The  scene  struck  him  as  the  more  tragic  in  that 
he  had  hastened  back  to  her,  so  eager,  so  firmly  re- 
solved upon  tolerance. 

Simpson  was  heard  to  be  withdrawing  elaborately; 
a  door  shut. 

Craig  roused  himself  and  put  out  his  hand  as 
Mimi  came  towards  him.  He  drew  her  down  upon 
his  knees. 

"  Why  do  you  do  it?  "  he  could  only  repeat  dully. 

She  tried  to  free  herself  from  him  petulantly  but 
he  held  her. 

"Mimi!"  he  pleaded.  "Couldn't  you  try  not 
to,  for  my  sake?  " 

The  old  plea,  but  it  was  the  only  one  he  knew 
how  to  make ! 

She  had  quieted  now  and  shut  her  eyes.  He  knew 
what  that  meant,  refusal  to  talk,  refusal  to  listen. 
How  wilful  she  was !  He  accepted  his  defeat  with  a 
sigh  and  kissed  her  eyes.  She  opened  them  and 
smiled  at  him. 

"  Tell  me  about  Paris,"  she  said. 

"  Are  you  lonely  for  Paris?  "  he  asked. 

She  thought  a  minute.  "  I  don't  know,"  she  an- 
swered at  length. 

Their  eyes  held  for  a  moment.  Then  "  Mon 
ami,"  she  murmured  tenderly  and  putting  her  face 
close  to  his  began  to  weep  quietly.  He  let  her, 

338 


The  Sinister  Revel 

stroking  her  dark  hair,   intensely  conscious  as  he 
held  her  close  to  him  of  how  thin  she  was. 

"  You  are  not  happy,  Mimi,"  he  said. 

"  We  are  not  happy,"  she  answered.  "  And  we 
never  will  be." 

She  had  dried  her  eyes  at  last  and  sat  up. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  William  a  few  days  ago," 
she  said  quite  unexpectedly.  "  He  has  again  of- 
fered to  get  a  divorce." 

"  Well,"  was  all  Craig  could  bring  himself  to 
say.  Then  feeling  the  inadequacy  of  the  remark  he 
added,  "  We  could  marry  then,  as  I  have  said  be- 
fore." 

Mimi's  eyes  had  a  strange  glitter  in  them  as  she 
said  rather  sharply, 

"  Why  should  we  marry?" 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  marry  ?  "  Craig  put  in.  "  We 
could  at  least  have  children." 

He  read  his  mistake  in  the  uncanny  horror  that 
crept  into  her  eyes.  "  Children  1  "  she  gasped. 
"  What  right  have  ive  to  have  children?  " 

He  saw  the  usual  violent  scene  impending  and 
had  sought  to  soothe  her.  But  she  pulled  herself 
away  from  him  and  burst  into  wild  hysterical  sob- 
bing. He  had  risen  wearily.  She  seemed  more 
nervous  and  uncontrollable  than  ever  tonight.  He 
led  her  to  her  room  and  Clemence  took  her  in 
charge.  He  hovered  uneasily  at  the  door. 

The  French  woman  returned. 

339 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Madame  is  not  well,"  she  had  said,  and  came 
all  too  insolently  close  as  she  spoke.  How  Craig 
loathed  her  with  her  undulating  shoulders  and  bold 
eyes !  He  suspected  her  and  Natty. 

"  But  she  is  getting  worse,"  he  found  himself  stam- 
mering stupidly.  "  Isn't  there  something  that  can 
be  done?" 

Clemence  had  only  shrugged.  "  It  is  the  mor- 
phine," she  said.  "  For  that  there  is  but  one  cure  — 
more  morphine."  Her  laugh  rang  out  pertly. 
Craig  turned  away. 

Dinner  proved  a  long,  lagging  process.  He  had 
been  so  eager  to  find  Mimi  herself  tonight,  with  the 
old  readiness  of  comment,  the  flares  of  wit.  But 
the  flashes  of  her  brilliancy  were  becoming  rarer  and 
rarer;  he  should  have  known  his  hope  a  stupid  one. 
He  had  become  used  to  dining  alone,  but,  somehow, 
he  was  particularly  blue  tonight.  It  had  begun  to 
rain.  It  always  rained  at  critical  moments  in  his 
life.  Or  else  it  was  moonlight;  he  didn't  know 
really  which  was  worse. 

After  dinner  he  had  wandered  desultorily  into  the 
lounge.  The  same  room,  the  same  ghostly  whisper- 
ing of  the  cypress  trees  outside  —  He  kicked  a  log 
in  the  grate;  the  fire  flared  up,  and  then  died  miser- 
ably down.  He  lit  a  cigarette  and  threw  himself 
onto  the  divan. 

Natty  sauntered  by  in  the  hall.  Craig  closed  his 
eyes  and  pretended  he  was  asleep.  But  Natty,  con- 
trary to  all  precedent,  came  into  the  room  unbidden. 

34° 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  went  to  a  table  and  helped  himself  to  a  cigar. 
Then,  as  Craig  kept  his  eyes  closed,  he  deliberately 
kicked  over  a  stool. 

Craig  sat  up. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  he  asked  irritably. 

Natty  proceeded  to  light  his  cigar  with  assurance, 
then  very  coolly  remarked: 

"  How  about  the  Casino  tonight?  It's  a  gala 
performance,  you  know.  Ghanzita's  premiere! 
The  public's  gone  mad  about  her  — 

Craig  had  risen  angrily. 

"  Let  me  alone,  damn  you,"  he  said  sharply,  and 
then  took  a  hurried  step  backwards  as  Natty  sprang 
towards  him,  an  ugly  look  in  his  eyes  Craig  had 
never  seen  before. 

"  Here,  none  of  that !  "  Natty  muttered.  "  Re- 
member — " 

Their  eyes  met,  insolence  in  Natty's,  a  sharp  dis- 
may in  Craig's.  Craig  caught  the  back  of  a  chair 
to  steady  himself. 

Natty!  The  French  woman  upstairs!  Ghan- 
zita !  The  whole  dastardly  crew  of  them ! 

He  pulled  himself  together  sufficiently  to  shrug 
in  deprecation  of  his  anger. 

"  My  nerves,"  he  said  weakly.     "  I'm  sorry." 

He  did  not  need  Natty's  patronizing  "  Good- 
night. You'll  sleep  them  off!"  to  point  the  ig- 
nominy of  his  apology. 

He  had  gone  upstairs  to  bed  soon  after.  Simp- 
son was  asleep,  and  he  did  not  choose  to  wake  him. 

341 


The  Sinister  Revel 

He  listened  at  Mimi's  door.  Everything  was  per- 
fectly quiet.  "  More  morphine,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  Poor  little  Mimi !  "  Then  he  undressed 
and  went  dully  to  bed. 

At  about  two  o'clock  he  awoke  with  the  intense 
consciousness  of  some  one  at  his  bedside,  of  a  muf- 
fled weeping.  He  sat  up  quickly.  "  Mimi !  "  he 
cried,  startled.  Then  with  the  night  breeze  across 
his  face,  "  Mimi,  you  will  get  cold.  What  is  it, 
dear?"  And  he  had  drawn  her  still  weeping  into 
bed  with  him.  Then  it  was,  as  she  lay  in  his  arms, 
she  told  him  she  was  going  away,  going  to  leave 
him. 

"We  are  both  so  unhappy!"  she  had  moaned. 
"  As  long  as  we  stay  together  we  can  never  lose  the 
sense  of  that  terrible  night.  I  am  so  ill,  so  tired. 
I  must  go  away —  Ah,  mon  ami,  it  is  for  the 
best—" 

And  Craig  in  his  unhappiness  could  not  but  see 
that  she  was  right.  So  they  lay  there  and  talked, 
disconsolate.  The  day  broke;  they  watched  it,  as 
they  had  watched  it  first  the  morning  after  they  left 
Frejus. 

But  with  the  dismal  straggling  light  Craig  felt 
again  the  old  sick  loneliness,  that  must  deceive  itself 
with  a  false  hope. 

"  Go  away  for  a  little,"  he  had  said.  "  A  few 
weeks  —  a  few  months !  But  you  must  come 
back  — " 

He  blinded  himself  wilfully  to  the  truth  of  their 
342 


The  Sinister  Revel 

separation  till  the  moment  of  the  good-byes  had 
come. 

"  A  few  months  — "  he  persisted  doggedly. 

"  A  year  —  perhaps!  "  Mimi  had  faltered. 

But  as  they  faced  each  other  that  last  morning, 
they  were  done  with  subterfuge.  Their  eyes  were 
full  of  the  consciousness  of  a  tragic  finality.  In  her 
own  room,  stripped  of  all  the  dainty  things  that  had 
made  it  so  essentially  hers,  Craig  had  taken  Mimi  in 
his  arms  and  cried  out  that  he  could  not  let  her  go. 

"I  cannot!  I  cannot!"  he  said.  "I  am  so 
lonely,"  and  he  had  clung  to  her  desperately,  his 
eyes  blinded  with  tears. 

"  Mimi !  "  he  kept  crying,  "  Mimi !  "  and  kissed 
her  eyes,  her  mouth. 

Mimi,  too,  was  weeping.  "  Mon  ami,"  she  kept 
saying  softly,  "  mon  ami,"  and  her  quivering  lips 
sought  his  again  helplessly. 

But  she  still  had  the  strength  of  her  resolution, 
and  had  drawn  gently  away  from  him. 

"  It  is  best  for  me,"  she  said  quietly. 

Then  even  as  he  sought  in  his  wild  grief  to  take 
her  in  his  arms  again  she  had  evaded  him  and,  lightly 
brushing  her  lips  across  his,  had  slipped  away. 

"  Mimi!  "  he  cried;  "  Mimi!  "  but  the  closing  of 
the  door  was  not  needed  to  stay  his  steps,  for  her 
words,  "  It  is  best  for  me,"  had  at  last  brought  the 
vision  of  a  complete  unselfishness. 

Craig's  protests  fell;  he  turned,  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands.  There  were  voices  in  the  hall  be- 

343 


The  Sinister  Revel 

low;  there  were  voices  outside  on  the  driveway. 
There  was  the  steady  persistent  throb  of  a  motor  en- 
gine, but  with  its  sudden  quickened  beat,  Craig's  re- 
sistance broke. 

He  had  stumbled  to  the  window. 

"  Mimi!  "  he  cried  desperately;  "  Mimi!  " 

She  was  already  in  the  motor  but  must  have  felt 
his  cry.  The  dark  eyes  looked  up  at  him,  but  even 
as  they  met  his  with  their  strange  baffling  intensity 
they  seemed  suddenly  the  eyes  of  the  little  girl  his 
horse  had  trampled  under  foot  so  many  years  before. 

He  had  drawn  back  quickly;  then,  with  a  sob,  he 
threw  himself  on  the  bed  and  buried  his  face  in  the 
tiny  pillows  to  shut  out  the  crunch  of  the  motor 
wheels  on  the  gravel  outside. 


344 


Chapter  XXVII 

"  I  am  lonely!  "  So  Craig  had  cried  as  he  clung 
to  Mimi  in  the  despair  of  their  parting,  but  he  was 
to  find  an  even  greater  loneliness  in  the  year  that  fol- 
lowed. He  was  waiting,  intensely  waiting  for  her 
with  the  complete  realization  all  the  while  that  she 
would  never  return.  He  had  stayed  on  at  Cannes; 
in  that  lay  his  mistake,  for  the  house  was  full  of 
haunting  memories  of  Mimi's  charm  and  Mimi's 
whimsies.  The  image  of  Flora,  too,  still  lingered. 
He  took  to  drinking  heavily  again  and  brooded  con- 
stantly. Even  Natty,  seeing  him  ugly  in  his  cups, 
let  him  alone. 

A  year  passed,  a  year  of  racking  solitude.  Then 
Mimi's  letter  had  come  with  still  its  false  note  of 
hope. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  had  written.  "  But  I  am  better. 
And  I  can  now  think  of  you  as  in  the  old  days,  so 
bright  and  eager.  Ah,  mon  ami,  we  paid  for  our 
crime,  didn't  we?  Our  wonderful  dear  passion  the 
forfeit.  But  I  am  not  coming  back  to  you,  not  yet 
awhile  — " 

Craig  foresaw  the  end  when,  soon  after,  he  read 
of  William's  return  to  Paris.  Craig  had  never 
been  able  to  understand  William's  attitude  toward 

345 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Mimi,  that  strange,  tender,  erratic  devotion,  so  in- 
consistent with  the  surly  grimness  of  his  nature.  It 
would  be  for  William  to  take  her  back  but  to  take 
her  as  one  does  a  sick  child,  to  watch  over  her,  to 
care  for  her  and  to  exact  nothing  in  return.  William 
could  do  what  he  had  been  too  weak  to  do. 

He  shut  his  eyes  to  the  image  of  Mimi,  in  her 
weary  protest. 

"  If  it  were  the  only  way,  if  our  happiness  were 
at  stake,  what  then?" 

And  his  answer  had  been  a  caress. 

So  when  William's  note  came,  it  brought  no  sur- 
prise, only  a  dull  pain. 

"  We  are  going  back  to  Ceylon.  Mimi  is  very 
ill.  I  do  not  condemn  you;  I  simply  do  not  under- 
stand you,  that  is  all.  She  wished  me  to  write  you 
and  sends  adieux — " 

That  spring  Craig  came  back  to  America. 

"  I  will  be  back,"  he  told  Natty,  "  very  soon," 
but  he  knew  in  reality  he  was  leaving  Cannes  for 
good.  Natty  knew  it,  too,  but  what  did  that  mat- 
ter now?  The  house  was  Natty's  to  all  intents  and 
purposes;  his  income  was  steadily  increasing.  And 
—  well  —  he  was  beginning  to  find  favour  in 
Ghanzita's  eyes;  it  was  to  his  advantage  to  have 
Craig  out  of  the  running. 

The  first  person  Craig  ran  into  in  New  York  was 
Seward  Ross. 

"  I'm  off  to  South  America,"  Seward  said. 
346 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  Consul  in  some  place  I  can't  pronounce.  I  think 
it  will  be  rather  a  lark,  senoritas  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Come  on  down  with  me.  Hardly  the  time 
of  year  for  an  equatorial  visit  but  —  Yes,  of  course 
I  mean  it." 

Craig  had  jumped  at  the  chance,  not  because  of 
the  languorous  vistas  evoked  but  because  he  liked 
Seward  and  a  genial  word  meant  much  to  him.  So, 
hardly  landed  in  one  place,  he  was  off  to  another. 
Six  weeks  of  it,  however,  he  found  sufficient. 
Seward  was  so  busy  with  diplomatic  details  and  his 
senoritas;  Craig  refused  to  go  anywhere,  and  once 
again  was  thrown  back  entirely  upon  his  own 
thoughts.  The  hot  nights,  the  long,  idle  days ! 

Craig  had  always  loved  the  tropics,  but  now  the 
tropics  meant  Mimi.  Mimi,  heavy-eyed,  listless, 
sleeping  away  her  life  — 

He  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  rushed  back 
to  New  York,  without  the  usual  blaze  of  trail, 
however.  But  Society  very  soon  awoke  to  the  fact 
of  his  presence.  His  slim  boyish  charm  was  dis- 
covered as  enhanced  by  the  vivid  scar  across  his 
cheek,  the  greater  restlessness  of  his  eyes. 

Of  course,  the  ludicrous  reconciliation  of  the 
Mannings  had  reduced  that  little  scandal  to  the 
proportions  of  a  farce.  And  as  to  the  ugly  Riviera 
business —  Well,  it  was  all  a  part  of  Society's 
privileged  perversity  that  it  could  forget,  as  well  as 
remember,  at  convenience.  So,  Craig  found  himself 

347 


The  Sinister  Revel 

welcomed  warmly  back  to  the  fold.  Men  went  out 
of  their  way  at  the  Clubs  to  make  a  jovial  remark 
to  him.  He  began  to  get  dinner  invitations. 

He  encountered  Mrs.  Andy  Prescott  at  the  St. 
Regis. 

"Craig!"  she  exclaimed,  and  her  voice  struck 
just  the  right  note  of  tender  recovery. 

"  You  are  so  exactly  the  same,"  she  murmured. 
"  Not  a  day  older." 

"Andy?  Oh,  Andy's  at  Hot  Springs."  Then, 
melting  to  a  soft  plaintiveness,  "  I  am  so  bored. 
Couldn't  you  —  er  —  arrange  to  have  dinner  with 
me  tonight?  " 

He  declined  awkwardly.  He  declined  every- 
thing— awkwardly.  This  new  move  of  Society  dis- 
gusted him.  He  knew,  he  understood;  he  was  an 
evil  thing  to  be  exploited.  It  was  the  women  who 
tormented  him  for  the  most  part,  openly  or  furtively 
as  the  case  might  be.  He  received  letters.  This 
one  or  that  one  lay  in  wait  for  him  in  the  lobby  of 
his  hotel  or  contrived  to  ride  in  the  park  and  effect 
a  surprised  encounter.  He  felt  himself  pointed  out 
every  time  he  appeared  in  public.  He  took  to  riding 
in  taxis  to  get  away  from  identification  by  motor. 
So  it  went.  Society's  pursuit  of  him  caused  him  a 
greater  revulsion  of  feeling  than  its  complete  os- 
tracism had  ever  done. 

Then  he  was  stricken  with  some  sort  of  malignant 
malaria  contracted  in  South  America.  He  was  at 
no  time  seriously  ill,  but  the  malady  hung  on  to  weeks 

348 


The  Sinister  Revel 

and  weeks  of  intermittent  fever  and  limp  exhaustion. 

He  was  delirious  at  times,  but  he  minded  less  the 
moments  of  crowded  horror  than  the  moments  when, 
fully  conscious,  he  lay  and  faced  the  stark  facts  of 
his  life.  For  the  first  time  since  the  tragedy  he 
gave  himself  up  to  the  thought  of  Constance,  the 
pain  of  his  sin  to  her.  That  thought  had  been  there 
through  the  months,  hovering  in  the  background  of 
his  mind,  demanding  to  be  dealt  with,  but  he  had 
doggedly,  persistently  denied  it.  Now  in  his  weak- 
ness he  could  no  longer  hold  it  off.  It  took  posses- 
sion of  him,  ruthlessly  fastened  upon  him  with  its 
mood  of  an  immense  despair,  its  terrible  reproach. 

Constance!  And  yet—  It  would  seem  as  he 
lay  there  through  the  wretched  lagging  hours  as  if 
the  lines  of  suffering  in  the  dear  face,  the  look  of 
pain  in  the  blue  eyes  gradually  faded.  She  seemed 
to  be  looking  at  him  as  in  the  old  days  with  a  great 
forgiveness,  a  tender  pity,  a  transcendent  love. 

Yes,  their  love!  It  was  still  there  as  the  great 
calm  is  there  back  of  the  moil  of  things.  It  was 
there  for  both  of  them,  there  for  him  in  his  blind 
perversity,  there  for  her  in  her  mistaken  suffering. 
But  they  must  go  on  denying  it,  miserable,  unhappy, 
apart.  If  a  woman  could  forgive,  Constance  could. 
If  a  woman  could  understand  the  tragedy  of  weak- 
ness and  meet  its  awful  needs,  Constance  could. 
Yet,  hemmed  in  by  a  world  of  convention,  bound 
down  by  a  tradition  that  accounted  justice  the  high- 
est law  of  life,  even  Constance  would  fail  of  the 

349 


The  Sinister  Revel 

courage  to  follow  her  vision,  that  pointed  the  way  to 
a  beautiful  forgiveness. 

Only  in  the  boy  was  there  hope.  In  his  interest 
might  their  love  find  expression;  in  his  life  might 
they  work  out  the  solution  of  their  own  lives.  To 
see  her  no  matter  how  infrequently,  to  meet  if  only 
in  formal  consultation,  to  look  again  into  the  dear 
blue  eyes !  Yes,  then  could  he  find  content,  then  — 

But  the  years  were  passing;  the  little  Henry  was 
no  longer  a  baby.  With  mute  resistance  to  time, 
Craig  had  still  thought  of  him  as  he  appeared  a  tiny 
creature  in  his  first  grotesque  little  trousers.  Then 
recently  he  had  come  across  a  picture  in  a  maga- 
zine— 

Craig  recovered  from  his  fever  gradually,  a  little 
more  miserable,  perhaps,  for  that  larger  vision  of 
Constance's  leniency  that  had  come  to  him  in  his 
weeks  of  illness.  A  little  more  miserable,  yet  still 
with  a  faint  gleam  of  hope  that  forced  the  resolve, 
as  the  little  Henry's  birthday  approached,  to  make 
one  last  great  plea.  He  could  lose  nothing  by  it;  he 
might  gain  much.  He  would  write  Constance;  he 
would  write  immediately.  Still  —  there  was  Lady 
Asburton;  he  had  forgotten  her  for  the  moment. 

Then  with  a  sharp  wonder  at  the  way  of  things, 
he  had  learned  that  Constance  was  on  her  way  to 
the  States.  A  break  with  the  Asburtons!  So  So- 
ciety read  it;  so  the  world  interpreted  it. 

But  his  lordship's  debts?  Her  ladyship's  town 
350 


The  Sinister  Revel 

house?  And  with  both  the  Van  Dams  in  town  at 
once,  what  then  ? 

Craig  had  written  his  letter  and  waited.  With 
Constance  so  close  to  him,  the  little  Henry  in  easy 
reach,  there  had  come,  strangely  enough,  the  old 
despair  of  readjustment.  In  a  world  all  wrong  it 
couldn't  be,  that  was  all;  it  just  couldn't  be.  So 
he  waited  and  brooded. 

But  as  he  waited,  the  realization  came  that,  be- 
fore the  thing  he  wanted  could  be  his,  he  must  prove 
the  sincerity  of  his  want  by  redeeming  a  little  the 
waste  of  the  years.  He  saw  quite  clearly  that,  as 
he  was,  Constance  would  be  justified  in  refusing  his 
claim.  Time  only  could  work  out  its  validity.  But 
she  might  offer  him  hope,  and  incentive.  The  letter 
came. 

"No,"  she  had  written,  "you  cannot  see  him. 
When  he  comes  to  you,  there  must  be  no  longer  a 
shadow  between  us.  When  that  will  be  I  do  not 
know,  I  cannot  say.  In  a  year,  perhaps,  after 
events  have  justified  you  — 

Craig's  brain  seemed  suddenly  to  be  cleared  of 
its  mists  of  gloom,  and  again,  as  on  the  moonlit  yacht 
so  many  years  before,  he  could  only  close  his  eyes 
to  the  great  throb  of  his  happiness. 


351 


Chapter  XXVIII 


"  A  year  perhaps  after  events  have  justified 
you  — " 

Craig  had  gone  at  once  to  West  Riding,  but  the 
old  place,  instead  of  intensifying  his  ecstasy,  as  he 
had  expected,  with  mellow  memories  and  quiet  con- 
tent, seemed  rather  a  mute  reminder  of  the  wasted 
past.  It  was  in  excellent  condition,  to  be  sure,  but 
there  was  that  in  the  great  silence  of  it  all,  in  the 
vistas  of  unused  rooms  that  constituted  a  terrible 
reproach. 

The  servants  were  new.  Poor  old  Horton  had 
died;  the  others  had  changed  with  the  years.  The 
stables  were  empty. 

"  It's  as  lonely  as  Hell  out  here,"  Craig  had  ex- 
claimed irritably  to  Simpson,  and  Simpson  could 
but  agree  with  a  retrospective  moisture  in  his  dim 
old  eyes. 

"  Lonely  as  Hell,"  the  lonelier  for  that  vision 
of  something  beautiful  and  luminous  and  bright  that 
stretched  just  ahead.  Happiness,  complete  happi- 
ness, was  there  within  grasp,  there  for  him  to  make 
his  own  at  last.  In  the  vague  contemplation  of  the 
peace  and  wonder  of  that  he  had  rested  content  at 
first,  but  dim,  unformed  joys  cannot  suffice  for  long. 
Facts  must  be  faced,  the  future  brought  down  to 

352 


The  Sinister  Revel 

definite  understanding.  He  must  think  clearly;  he 
must  plan.  Some  vague  idea  of  taking  up  his  busi- 
ness career  again  hovered  in  the  background  of  his 
mind.  But  with  his  usual  aversion  to  detail  he  put 
off  his  calculation  from  day  to  day  till  gradually 
the  zest  of  his  joy  was  sapped.  His  exultation 
dropped.  There  seemed  a  lack  of  conviction  in 
everything,  in  his  happiness,  in  his  love,  even  in  the 
hope  Constance  had  extended  to  him.  Hope?  Or 
was  it  rather  a  test  to  prove  his  powers,  to  gauge 
his  weakness?  Had  she  expected  that  he  would 
qualify?  Or  was  it,  after  all,  but  the  exertion  of  an 
authority  his  plea  had  pointed  as  hers,  an  authority 
unjustly  used  in  imposing  conditions  she  judged  im- 
possible to  be  met?  Resentment  grew  as  he  brooded. 
Doubt  and  uneasiness  crept  in,  with  an  ever  increas- 
ing sense  of  his  will  as  a  weak  amorphous  thing, 
destined  now  as  always  to  play  him  false.  He  be- 
came sullen  and  moody. 

The  knowledge  that  Constance  was  aware  of  his 
every  move,  waiting,  watching,  in  no  way  lessened 
the  bitterness  of  his  vacillation.  Six  weeks  passed. 
He  began  to  go  to  town,  showed  himself  drunk  once 
or  twice  at  popular  restaurants. 

Then,  feeling  himself  again  in  the  grip  of  the  old 
restlessness,  he  had  decided  to  go  to  his  camp  in 
the  Adirondacks.  Perhaps  there,  in  the  coolness 
of  the  mountain  air,  he  could  think  more  clearly, 
force  some  decision  to  prove  his  good  intent.  And 
always  Constance's  words  tormented  him  — "  In  a 

353 


The  Sinister  Revel 

year  when  events  have  justified  you  — "  There 
seemed  a  certain  mockery  in  it  now;  two  months  of 
the  year  had  already  slipped  by. 

He  met  Cecil  Brenchley  in  the  Grand  Central 
Station. 

"  I'm  off  to  Rio  next  week,"  Cecil  cried. 

Craig's  refusal  to  join  him  in  his  South  American 
debaucheries  was  hurried. 

"  I'm  done  with  all  that,"  he  said,  but  the  state- 
ment brought  him  no  assurance. 

"  Yes,  I'm  done  with  all  that,"  he  repeated,  this 
time  almost  passionately,  and  Cecil  let  him  go,  at  a 
loss  to  understand  the  look  in  his  strange,  restless 
eyes. 

The  stir  of  old  desires,  haunting  solicitudes,  quick- 
ening memories !  Craig  shut  his  eyes  to  the  turbu- 
lence of  his  thoughts.  A  danger  escaped !  Thank 
God  for  that!  and  his  relief  was  heartfelt.  But  the 
little  things  of  life  could  still  control  his  moods. 
The  train  trip  to  the  Adirondacks  was  a  dirty  one; 
the  Lodge  gave  evidence  of  neglect.  He  felt  a 
quick  sweep  of  the  old  loneliness,  that  deadly  shake 
of  his  nerves.  It  began  to  storm, —  a  deluge  of 
mountain  rain,  a  fury  of  wind. 

And  then,  Craig  was  to  read  in  a  paper,  that 
he  picked  up  quite  dispassionately,  of  the  death  of 
Mimi. 

A  week  later,  drunk,  in  a  frenzy  of  unreasoning 
grief,  he  had  sailed  with  Cecil  for  Rio  de  Janeiro. 


354 


The  Sinister  Revel 

She  had  offered  him  the  hope  of  forgiveness  and 
he  had  wilfully  cast  it  aside.  But  Constance's  suf- 
fering had  its  root  in  an  even  deeper  bitterness  than 
this.  She  knew  with  relentless  intuition  that  grief 
for  Mimi  had  been  the  determinative  factor  in  this 
greatest  crisis  of  Craig's  existence.  Poor  Con- 
stance! It  had  been  the  shadow  of  Mimi  that  had 
lain  most  heavily  on  her  heart  during  all  the  wretched 
years  of  her  doubt  and  struggle. 

After  the  first  year  had  forced  home  to  her 
with  sharp  poignancy  the  mistake  of  her  divorce, 
she  seemed  suddenly  possessed  of  a  new  strange 
insight  that  enabled  her  to  follow  Craig's  every 
step  with  passionate  understanding.  For  she  knew, 
how  intensely  she  knew  the  workings  of  his  weak- 
ness! It  was,  after  all,  because  of  that  weakness 
she  loved  him  and  had  married  him.  So  she  could 
find  no  condemnation  for  him  in  her  heart,  only  an 
overwhelming  pity,  the  outcome  of  a  great  despair 
at  the  hopeless  waste  of  it  all.  For  Constance  in 
those  first  years  had  no  thought  of  possible  read- 
justment. She  took  divorce  as  irrevocably  the  end 
as  death  itself,  accepted  the  dread  finality  of  it  as 
inevitable.  It  was  the  terrible  tragedy  of  Flora's 
death  that  aroused  in  her  at  last  the  struggle  of  a 
great  doubt.  The  thing  that  left  the  world  horror- 
stricken  only  served  to  quicken  in  her  the  pain  of  the 
maternal,  that  yearned  to  protect  the  man  she  loved 
in  face  of  world-wide  opposition.  The  greater  his 
sin,  the  greater  his  need  of  her,  and  she  struggled 

355 


The  Sinister  Revel 

blindly  to  see  her  way  clear  through  the  miasma  of 
accepted  tradition.  Then  she  had  been  taken  ill, 
very  ill,  and  when  she  recovered  Rumour  placed 
Craig  and  Mimi  as  living  together  in  Cairo.  The 
years  that  followed  were  perhaps  the  bitterest  of 
Constance's  years  of  trial.  For  the  old  jealousy 
flared  anew,  and  always  she  tormented  herself  with 
images  of  their  happiness.  Mimi  with  her  glow- 
ing eyes,  her  turbulence  of  mood;  Craig,  reckless, 
insatiate,  eager.  Their  separation  had  brought  at 
first  only  a  dull  wonder,  then  a  slowly  quickening 
problem  that  worked  out  eventually  in  the  break 
with  the  Asburtons  and  the  return  to  America. 

Craig's  letter  with  its  desperate  note  of  loneli- 
ness, its  plea  for  the  little  Henry,  had  opened  to 
.Constance  the  opportunity  she  had  wanted  so  in- 
tensely. 

She  told  herself  that  her  vision  had  cleared,  that 
she  was  obeying  purely  and  simply  the  dictates  of  a 
great  love  in  holding  out  the  hope  of  forgiveness. 
But,  in  reality,  the  little  triumph  of  one  woman  over 
another  had  had  its  share  in  moulding  her  decision, 
with  its  inevitable  assertion  of  a  pride  that  could 
find  justification  only  in  imposing  conditions.  Her 
vision  had  cleared,  but  cleared  only  to  the  point  of 
making  terms  with  her  forgiveness. 

"  After  events  have  justified  you  — "  She  had 
written  it  with  no  feeling  of  qualification,  with  no 
sense  of  a  concession  to  her  pride.  Again,  as  in  the 
matter  of  her  divorce,  she  was  accounting  justice 

356 


The  Sinister  Revel 

a  higher  law  than  love.  For  had  he  earned  for- 
giveness, what  virtue  in  forgiving? 

Two  months  of  doubt  and  hope  and  waiting! 

Then,  again,  it  was  to  be  the  shadow  of  Mimi, 
the  more  potent  influence  now  through  the  very  in- 
tangibility of  memory. 

From  that  time  on  Constance  read  in  every  excess 
of  Craig's  a  defiance  of  herself,  which  she  inter- 
preted as  the  natural  reaction  of  his  grief  for  Mimi. 
But,  in  reality,  although  news  of  Mimi's  death  had 
precipitated  his  departure,  there  was  something 
quite  different  that  moved  him  in  his  defiance.  The 
thought  that  had  distilled  itself  out  of  the  turbulence 
of  his  moods,  during  those  months  of  debauchery 
spent  in  South  America,  was  that  Constance  had 
been  acting  entirely  on  the  hypothesis  of  his  fail- 
ure. She  was  putting  his  weakness  to  definite  proof 
that  she  might  cast  him  off  utterly.  She  came  to 
stand  to  him  as  the  embodiment  of  Law  that  seeks 
to  destroy  everything  it  cannot  conform  to  its  de- 
testable order;  and  the  part  of  his  nature  that  had 
always  risen  against  force  rose  now  in  a  senseless 
antagonism  to  her  impositions.  The  image  he 
evoked  of  her  was  close-lipped,  hard  — "  After 
events  have  justified  you  — " 

He  had  come  back  to  New  York  in  a  fit  of  drunken 
bravado  to  force  home  the  truth  of  his  disintegration. 
He  had  gone  to  pieces  utterly  this  time.  Evil,  real 
evil,  had  got  him  in  its  grip  at  last.  He  was  done 
for;  so  he  told  himself  and  forced  new  excesses  to 

357 


The  Sinister  Revel 

forget  the  old.  To  outrage  all  decency,  to  outrage 
the  world,  to  outrage  the  woman  he  loved  —  And, 
as  in  the  Deauville  days,  he  kept  himself  drunk  to 
dull  the  ache  of  reason. 

Society  was  righteously  scandalized.  "II  y  a  des 
limites  aux  limites,"  so  Andre  said  and  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott  agreed.  So  did  Mrs.  Tim  —  A  neat  ostracism 
was  organized. 

The  year  passed;  Craig  made  no  attempt  to  com- 
municate with  Constance.  Two  years  — 

And  Constance's  pride  could  but  harden  itself  with 
time  to  a  harsh  acceptance  of  her  lot  and  the  bitter- 
ness of  failure.  For  she  still  saw  the  shadow  that 
lay  between  them  as  the  shadow  of  Mimi,  and  it 
was  that  she  could  not  forgive. 

Then  had  happened  by  one  of  those  strange  freaks 
of  chance  an  incident  out  of  all  calculation.  Craig 
had  encountered  Jack  Harding  at  the  house  of  some 
notorious  South  American  woman,  whom  Cecil 
Brenchley  had  brought  from  Rio.  Both  had  spent 
the  night  there,  the  next  day.  It  was  as  Jack  was 
staggering  off  about  seven  o'clock  to  meet  a  dinner 
engagement  at  the  Treadwells'  that  Craig  was  seized 
with  the  malignant  idea  of  going  with  him.  Craig 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  America  for  good,  go- 
ing back  to  Cannes;  to  force  entrance  into  a  well- 
ordered  gathering  struck  him  in  his  befuddlement  as 
a  last  defiant  coup  with  which  to  terminate  his  New 
York  stay.  Jack  was  too  drunk  to  see  the  folly  of 

358 


The  Sinister  Revel 

the  venture,  took  it  in  fact  as  an  excellent  joke  on 
their  host. 

The  thing  was  brilliantly  staged  with  all  So- 
ciety foregathered  to  get  the  dramatic  thrill  of  it. 
The  appearance  of  Craig,  drunk,  aggressive,  wild- 
eyed,  brought  a  second's  startled  hush. 

He  stood  there,  unsteady,  dazzled  by  the  many 
lights.  Then,  with  a  dawning  consciousness  of  the 
abject  dismay  written  on  Mrs.  Jimmy's  stupid  face, 
the  grotesque  truth  of  the  situation  flashed  upon  him. 
He  did  not  need  the  closing-in  of  a  group  at  the 
end  of  the  room  to  point  the  fact  that  Constance  was 
there. 

But  Jimmy  Treadwell  had  come  forward,  snatch- 
ing the  easiest  solution.  So  had  John  Schuyler  and 
put  his  hand  on  Craig's  arm.  Mrs.  Jimmy  had 
twisted  her  face  into  a  semblance  of  a  smile,  and 
then  conversation  boomed  like  the  quick  rush  of 
air  into  a  vacuum.  A  second  later  dinner  was  an- 
nounced. 

Fortunately  the  affair  was  a  big  one.  The  initial 
babble  was  not  without  its  element  of  hysteria. 
Then  came  a  shortage  of  topics,  disconcerting  lulls. 
Spars  were  sporadic.  There  was  an  alarming  tend- 
ency displayed  to  lose  the  thread  of  things.  For 
all  were  waiting,  intensely  waiting,  fearful  that 
something  might  happen,  fearful  that  something 
might  not  happen. 

Craig  had  sat  perfectly  still  for  a  while,  of  a 

359 


The  Sinister  Revel 

strange  sullenness  and  black  brooding.  His  senses 
were  all  of  a  blur  in  the  beginning.  He  was  only 
vaguely  conscious  of  a  long  line  of  faces,  of  the 
noiseless  pantomimic  service  of  the  footmen,  the 
heavy  scent  of  flowers.  But  he  was  aware,  intensely 
aware  of  Constance's  presence  in  the  distance.  He 
had  not  looked  at  her,  but  his  mind  construed  her 
attitude  as  that  of  all  the  others  about  him,  one  of 
smug  superiority. 

There  was  Andre  directly  across,  unmistakable 
evil  in  his  little  eyes;  there  was  George  Winters, 
heavy,  insolent;  and  Sidgewick  next  — 

They  became  suddenly,  to  his  clouded  vision,  all  a 
part  of  the  sinister  crowd,  that  had  terrorized  him 
from  childhood,  the  crowd  that  hovered  always  in 
the  background  of  his  mind,  threatening,  antago- 
nistic, destructive.  It  seemed,  as  always,  that  he 
must  make  some  struggle  against  it,  cry  out,  defy  it 
to  assert  his  own  identity.  He  felt  his  thoughts 
seething  to  a  fever  heat.  He  kept  quiet,  but  they 
tried  to  draw  him  out,  with  mockery  in  their  eyes. 
By  God,  how  they  were  tormenting  him,  baiting  him ! 

South  America!  Somebody,  some  man,  was 
arguing  with  him;  he  replied  hotly,  loudly. 

"  Cecil  Brenchley !  "  He  swung  around  with  a 
snarl.  "Cecil!  Who  said  Cecil  was  done  for? 
Damn  it,  he  was  as  good  as  another  — " 

The  woman  next  him  pulled  his  arm;  the  terror 
in  her  eyes  but  drove  him  on.  Mrs.  Tim  was  whis- 
pering in  Andre's  ear.  Then  he  caught  George 

360 


The  Sinister  Revel 

Winters'  laugh.  Quick  as  a  flash  he  jumped  to 
his  feet.  The  table  was  in  an  uproar  on  the  in- 
stant, with  Craig  threshing  about  like  a  wild  animal 
at  bay.  There  was  the  crash  of  china  and  glass. 
Two  men  seized  him.  Then  he  remembered  noth- 
ing except  that  he  was  looking  across  the  table  into 
Constance's  eyes.  She  had  half  risen  with  a  little 
protesting  cry,  that  shivered  away  to  nothing  as  his 
eyes  met  hers.  He  had  turned  to  her  in  a  last  de- 
fiance. After  all,  it  was  to  outrage  her —  Then 
his  violence  had  broken,  but  it  was  not  the  terrible 
pain  in  her  eyes  that  stayed  him,  but  a  great  light 
that  seemed  there  in  the  blue  depths  to  struggle  with 
the  pain.  With  the  swift  vision  of  that  same  light 
in  her  eyes  as  she  had  turned  to  him  so  long  ago 
in  her  first  girlish  forgiveness,  he  recognized  all  too 
surely  the  mistaken  folly  of  his  defiance.  He  had 
given  a  strange  little  sob;  then,  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands,  he  had  suffered  John  Schuyler  to  lead 
him  from  the  room. 

The  next  day  Constance  had  gone  to  him.  Her 
vision  had  cleared  at  last.  In  that  one  desperate 
second  when  Craig  had  stood  at  bay,  wild-eyed  and 
haggard,  all  of  Constance's  anger  and  bitterness  had 
gone  down  before  the  sharp  perception  of  the 
tragedy  of  his  plight.  The  very  futility  and  child- 
ishness of  the  scene  lent  to  it  the  greater  poignancy 
of  appeal.  She  saw  him,  in  his  weakness,  arrayed 
unfairly  against  a  world  all  too  eager  to  hunt  out 

361 


The  Sinister  Revel 

and  make  sport  of  weakness.  She  saw  him,  in  his 
failure,  the  victim  of  a  battered  idealism  that  had 
been  unable  to  make  compromise  with  circumstance. 
And  she  saw  herself  as  of  those  who  had  joined  to 
work  his  ruin  through  the  very  impositions  she  had 
put  upon  him  to  satisfy  her  pride.  "  When  events 
have  justified  you  — " 

She  knew  now  a  forgiveness  that  must  make  terms 
is  no  forgiveness  at  all.  She  knew  now  that  the 
shadow  between  them  was  not  that  of  Mimi  but 
the  shadow  of  her  own  hard  will.  The  maternal 
in  her,  with  its  crying  need  to  care  for  and  protect, 
asserted  itself  at  last,  triumphant,  and  pointed  the 
way  to  a  forgiveness,  unqualified,  that  is  of  itself  the 
pure  and  perfect  love. 

So,  because  he  was  weak,  Constance  could  forgive 
him.  Had  he  been  strong  enough  to  do  the  big 
things  he  wanted  to  do,  had  he  possessed  the  moral 
stamina  to  fight  out  his  redemption  without  her,  her 
pride  might  have  been  satisfied,  but  the  woman  in 
her  would  never  have  been  quickened.  Failure  had 
proved  his  utter  dependence  on  her  and  in  that  lay 
the  humanity  of  his  appeal. 

So  she  had  gone  to  him  in  all  protecting  love  with 
a  great  pity  shining  through  the  translucent  quiet 
of  her  eyes.  Only  once  did  her  calm  desert  her. 
That  was  as  Craig  had  cried  out  wildly  the  evil  that 
was  in  him,  protested  she  must  not,  could  not  take 
him  back. 

362 


The  Sinister  Revel 

"  You  do  not  know.  You  cannot  understand  — " 
he  kept  repeating  bitterly. 

Then  as  he  raised  his  face,  haggard  and  drawn 
in  the  morning  light,  she  recognized  for  the  first 
time  the  ravage  of  the  years.  She  caught  her  breath 
with  a  little  sob. 

"  My  dear  one  I  "  was  all  she  could  murmur. 
"  My  dear  one!  "  and  the  infinite  tenderness  of  her 
voice  showed  that  her  love  had  given  her  insight 
and  that  beyond  all  doubt  she  did  understand. 

Then  as  on  that  day  so  many  years  before,  she 
drew  him  gently  down  beside  her  on  the  couch  and 
soothed  him  as  one  does  a  little  child. 


363 


EPILOGUE 

"  After  all,  the  Van  Dams  are  too  tedious,"  quoth 
Andre. 

"  Well,  if  Craig's  behaving  himself,  it  is  because 
he  is  done  for  — "  proclaimed  Mrs.  Tim. 

"  Poor  Connie!  "  Mrs.  Hamilton  Raleigh  gave 
forth  a  sigh  of  placid  content.  "  She's  aged  so 
frightfully  since  the  little  Henry's  death  — " 

But  Mrs.  Anderson  Prescott  was  looking  for  a 
fourth  at  bridge. 

"  By  the  way,  is  any  one  going  down  to  Sheeps- 
head  for  the  races?  " 

"  And,  oh,  have  you  heard  the  latest  version  of  the 
Schuyler  Scandal?" 


THE    END 


364 


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